

■il 














THE WORLD, THE 
CHURCH, AND 
THE DEVIL 


BY 

JOHN ARCHIBALD MORISON 



BOSTON: RICHARD G. BADGER 

TORONTO: THE COPP CLARK CO., LIMITED 



Copyright, 1916, by John Archibald Morison 




SEP 19 1916 


The Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A. 


Printed in the United States of America 


©CI.A437746 

*>Vt> l * 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Travelers 7 

II. The Call 17 

III. The Ordination of Mr. James Muir . 29 

IV. “Ye Gates, Lift up Your Heads on 

High” 40 

V. Mapleton Firesides 46 

VI. Into a Far Country 69 

VII. Albuk, New Mexico 79 

VIII. The Last Will and Testament of 

William Main 90 

IX. Fate Shifts the Scenes 94 

X. Music, the Universal Language . . 107 

XI. The Tragedy and Triumph of a Soul . 117 

XII. Among the Members of the Kirk . . 132 

XIII. Sacrament Sabbath in the Kirk . . 147 

XIV. The Mystery of Love 157 

XV. The Auld Kirk o’ St. Giles .... 177 

XVI. Love Is Victory 189 












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THE WORLD THE CHURCH AND 
THE DEVIL 








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THE WORLD, THE CHURCH 
AND THE DEVIL 


CHAPTER I 
TRAVELERS 

/^HANGE for Millerton, Barry, Morn- 
^-^ingside and Mapleton; this car goes to 
Port Huron and Chicago,” sang out the brakes- 
man on the fast express that came rushing into 
Safford Junction from the East. He had 
scarcely pronounced these words when a young 
man dressed in black, seated near the center of 
the car, leaned over and hurriedly thrusting a 
manuscript he had been reading into his grip with 
his large muscular fingers snapped it shut. It 
was a chill morning in the month of November 
and as he stepped off the car and quickly moved 
across the platform he was followed by a large 
squarely built man and two ladies who leisurely 
made their way in the same direction. As they 


8 The World, the Church and the Devil 


moved over to where the young man was stand- 
ing a local train of three cars backed slowly along- 
side. “Here is our train, Alice/’ said Dr. Mac- 
laren to his wife, as she drew near to where he 
was standing. “This is our last change and we 
will soon be home.” “I am sure I am not sorry,” 
replied his wife, “although we’ve had a lovely 
trip, but you know I’m just dying to see the 
children. I hope they will be at the station to 
meet us.” “You may be sure they will. I phoned 
Duncan last night from Toronto that he could 
make ready for that operation this afternoon. 
He wired me to the steamer at Quebec to hurry 
up, as David Bruce was home at his father’s and 
that the only chance of prolonging his life was 
an immediate operation.” 

“I hope you will be able to help him,” replied 
his wife — then, dropping her voice, added, “poor 
boy, he has just about broken his mother’s heart. 
Of course, he was a bit wild, but I always liked 
him and I think most of the neighbors did also. 
While he was reckless and never went to church, 
yet in many ways he seemed to be the best of 
their boys. He was manly and above board 
and not a bit like his brother Dick, whom I al- 
ways thought more pious than righteous. But 
the old man, who was never done finding fault 


T ravelers 


9 

with David, could see nothing but good in Dick — 
he always went to church with him.” 

“All aboard for Millerton, Barry, Morning- 
side, Mapleton and Glencoe,” shouted the train- 
man, and Dr. Maclaren and his wife, after 
beckoning to Miss St. Claire, who had started 
down the pita form, hastily took their chairs in 
the parlor car. Some seats in front of them they 
spied the young man in black whom they had 
observed the day before in the dining car between 
Montreal and Toronto. He was rather dis- 
tinguished in appearance. The sort of man that 
one might look twice at. And Mrs. Maclaren, 
catching her husband’s eye, whispered, “I won- 
der who that man is; he looks like a preacher. 
Perhaps he is going to Mapleton.” 

“Oh, yes,” replied the Doctor, “I happened to 
meet Dugald Thomson last night at the Queens 
and he told me that they were expecting a min- 
ister for Sunday, a young man of more than 
ordinary ability ; they are still hearing candidates, 
you know.” 

Dr. Maclaren was known far and wide as one 
of the most skilful surgeons in Ontario, and his 
absence from Mapleton for the unusual period of 
two months had been due to the fact that his 
well-known professional skill, coupled with the 


io The World, the Church and the Devil 

high respect for his splendid manhood, which had 
been universally accorded him, had conspired to 
effect his election as representative of the On- 
tario Medical Society at the Congress of the 
British Medical Association, which had just con- 
cluded its sessions in the City of Glasgow. On 
this trip abroad he had been accompanied by his 
wife and by the daughter of the late Dr. St. 
Claire, to whose practise he had some years pre- 
viously succeeded. In the mind of Mrs. Mac- 
laren it was still an open question whether the 
learned thesis of her distinguished husband or the 
charming personality of Jean St. Claire had pro- 
voked the greater sensation among the younger 
members of that convention. 

As the train drew into Barry Station, Jean, 
who had been monopolized since leaving Safford 
Junction by an elderly lady, Mrs. MacGregor, 
who had been her mother’s friend, came forward. 

“I see you have just been chatting with Mrs. 
MacGregor,” said the Doctor. “She is a good 
old soul. What’s the news from Mapleton?” 

“She is just a dear,” replied Jean, “and is re- 
turning home from Galt; but if I did not love her 
so much I would be inclined to laugh at her, for 
her first and last topic of conversation was the 
Church. They haven’t got a minister settled yet 


T ravelers 


ii 


in St. Giles, but Mrs. MacGregor tells me that 
they expect to hear a young man on Sunday who 
has just returned from Edinburgh and who is 
said to be a great preacher.” 

“I hope your interest in him will not be other 
than theological, Jean,” said Mrs. Maclaren, with 
a smile. “You know that after the Medical ball 
in Glasgow, young Dr. MacLeod, who claimed 
you for so many dances, told me that he was con- 
templating a trip to Canada next summer. The 
Scotch are such proverbial travelers, you know, 
and then he seemed strangely agitated when he 
missed meeting you again at the closing banquet. 
It was too amusing for anything, the way he 
acted. When I told him you had gone up to Lon- 
don the night before with Mrs. Dr. Webster and 
that you would not be back, but would join us at 
Liverpool, his eyes stared straight ahead of him 
for a moment and then he said that he could wish 
Mrs. Dr. Webster had gone to Heaven and gone 
alone; and then you know the flowers!” This 
sally of Mrs. Maelaren’s caused the color to flush 
Jean's face and to mount up under the wavy 
brown hair that caressingly encircled her temples, 
and turning quickly to Dr. Maclaren, with a sup- 
pressed smile, she asked him if he knew that 
W. G. Hale of Mapleton was in the next car. 


12 The World, the Church and the Devil 

“No, but I will go through and see him. He 
will know all about the sensational flight of Dili- 
cum to the United States. Your brother had 
about five thousand dollars on deposit at his 
bank and he has lost it all. That man Dilicum 
is surely a crook. Why, he even accepted a 
twelve-hundred-dollar deposit from Bob ten 
minutes before the Bank closed on Wednesday 
and on Thursday it did not open its doors. Dili- 
cum was gone — nobody knew where — and it was 
said that the only man who was wise was Lawyer 
Sharp, the Bank’s attorney.” 

“He was a good brother mason, wasn’t he, 
John?” exclaimed his wife. 

“Perhaps he was, Alice,” replied the Doctor, 
“but you must not forget that St. Giles Church 
people were also taken in, and the minister simply 
had to get another church — he was badly deceived 
by Dilicum. That man was a proper hypocrite — 
used to attend prayer meeting, and his pious 
prayers fairly hypnotized the preacher and elders, 
while the ladies of the Foreign Missionary So- 
ciety all thought he was just inspired, the fervent 
way he used to plead the cause of the benighted 
heathen. He told them at the annual church 
meeting, a year ago, that the churches had been 
playing with the missionary problem for long 


T ravelers 


13 


enough and that it was about time they applied 
business methods to the missionary movement. 
Mrs. Lawrence almost became hysterical when 
he added that at every tick of the clock one thou- 
sand heathen souls dropped into Hell. The whole 
church got busy after that and a personal canvass 
of every member was made and as a result last 
March they reported $5,000 as the missionary 
collection for the year. They never had more 
than eight hundred dollars a year before — and to 
think that all this missionary money was on de- 
posit in his bank. Then old David Bruce, the 
elder, had deposited the savings of his life-time 
with DilicunTs bank also, and indeed I don’t know 
how many more of the Church people. 

“What caught old David was DilicunTs strict 
orthodoxy. W. G. Hale quit going to church and 
the church people felt rather sore when he gave 
up his pew, and some of them called him a skeptic, 
but I don’t know. W. G. would never say much 
about his reasons, and I for one do not think he 
had lost his faith in God, for he has, on different 
occasions, invited the Salvation Army to conduct 
their meetings on his lawn. He told me one day 
that he believed they were sincere and were ac- 
tually accomplishing more good than all the 
churches put together and that while he liked our 


14 The World, the Church and the Devil 

last minister as a man, he could not stand his 
preaching, for he always felt while listening to 
him that he avoided striking right home — per- 
haps he did,” continued the Doctor. “His spe- 
cialty was opiates, and the majority of the cases 
called for a surgical operation, but I must now 
go and see W. G.” 

Jean St. Claire remained silent for some time 
after the Doctor had gone, while Mrs. Maclaren 
busied herself arranging her handbag. 

“Jean, you are surely in a brown study. I fear 
your thoughts are far away in Glasgow 
with ” 

“No, indeed, I was just thinking of the awful 
distress at Mapleton among the mill hands occa- 
sioned by this Dilicum bank crash. To think, that 
that man had the callousness to decamp with all 
their hard-earned savings !” 

“It is too bad, indeed,” said Mrs. Maclaren, 
“and the Government ought to exercise a stricter 
supervision over all these private banks. The 
Doctor was telling me yesterday that two other 
private bankers in the province of Quebec had 
also gone wrong and that Edward Arnold’s pri- 
vate bank in Mapleton had closed its doors.” 

“No — surely not!” exclaimed Jean; “and he 
was steward of the Methodist Church.” 


T ravelers 


15 


“Well, his case was not quite so bad as Dili- 
cum’s,” replied Mrs. Maclaren, “after the Dili- 
cum smash the air was electric with panic and 
old Ed. Arnold, realizing that his bank was in 
no condition to weather a storm, made over all 
his assets to the Canadian Bank, and the follow- 
ing morning when the depositors stormed his 
bank door they read the notice: 

“ ‘this bank has transferred 

ALL ITS BUSINESS TO THE 
CANADIAN BANK. 

ALL PERSONS HAVING BUSINESS 
WITH THIS BANK WILL HAVE 

THEIR ACCOUNTS SETTLED AT ITS 
OFFICE ON WALLACE STREET.' 

“The next morning as the Methodist minister 
walked down town he ran into his trusty steward 
and upon inquiring about his affairs, which were 
the talk of the town, Ed replied with his usual 
unctuousness, ‘Yes, pastor, I have gone out of the 
banking business and now I’m going to live nearer 
to my God !’ ” 

As Mrs. Maclaren pronounced the words “to 
my God,” the air-brakes were applied to the train 


1 6 The World, the Church and the Devil 


and a grinding noise, like the creaking of a great 
furnace door turning upon its angry hinges, was 
heard beneath the car. 

“Mapleton — Mapleton,” shouted the trainman. 


CHAPTER II 
THE CALL 

TAMES MUIR was sitting alone in his small 
** room on the third story of a stone front house, 
which crowded itself against the pavement of 
Hudson Bay Hill in the City of Mere des Villes. 
On the right-hand side of the massive oak door 
which opened from the street might be read in 
black enameled letters impressed upon a square 
brass plate the name, John Hutchinson, 
Dentist. The row of buildings of which this 
house marked the center had half a century be- 
fore been the fashionable homes of the best blue 
blood of Mere des Villes, but that City had 
changed with the years and the sides of Mount 
Allan had allured the families who were known 
by the historic names at one time familiar upon 
these doors. Two massive churches still lingered 
upon either side of the Hill thoroughfare, stand- 
ing like sentinels, casting a solemn glance upon 
the passers-by — and they mostly passed by, for 


17 


1 8 The World , the Church and the Devil 


at this time in the City of Mere des Villes neither 
the Church of John Knox nor the Church of 
James Martineau any longer cast the spell over 
the people that had been their wont in days gone 
by and the glory also of the gray stone front 
houses above them had departed. These houses 
were now almost entirely given over to Doctors’ 
offices and Florists’ shops — not that there was 
any reason to infer that the Florists’ business was 
promoted by the Doctors who dealt out pills 
and plasters to their patients in the adjoining 
houses. It had just happened that way. 

When James Muir had returned to Mere des 
Villes from pursuing his Post-Graduate studies 
in Edinburgh, as he said himself, his head was 
full but his pocketbook had become correspond- 
ingly empty, and big-hearted John Hutchinson, 
the dentist, had invited him to make himself as 
comfortable as might be in the attic room of his 
house, at a figure sufficiently small to suit the 
young preacher’s attenuated pocketbook and at 
the same time large enough not to offend his 
Scotch pride. 

James Muir had just finished reading the eve- 
ning paper when a knock was heard at the door 
and into his room walked the dentist’s servant 
man, extending in his hand a large blue envelope 


The Call 


19 


and saying with a rich Irish brogue, “Letther fur 
you, sor — yer signature, plase — shure, an’ its reg- 
gisturred. ,, 

“Registered, Patrick !” exclaimed Muir. ‘I 
wonder who can be sending me so much money.” 

“Shure, sor, an’ don’t they reggisturr som- 
monses as well as money in this counthree?” And 
then added, with a twinkle in his eye, “it’s most 
loikley a sommons, sor.” 

“Or perhaps a call, Patrick” said Muir, with a 
smile. “Thank you, Patrick.” 

“You’re welcome, sor.” 

Opening the envelope and taking in his hand a 
long document on which there were scores of sig- 
natures in as many different hand-writings, Muir 
observed that a sheet of note paper had fallen 
to the floor. Picking it up, he read the following 
words written in a very careful hand : 


“Dear Mr. Muir: 

“I am enclosing to you the ‘Call’ which has been unani- 
mously and heartily extended to you by the Congregation 
of St. Giles’ Church, Mapleton. While two other names 
were offered in nomination, the ballot resulted in 146 votes 
in your favor, with only 5 votes divided between the other 
two candidates, and these votes represented only two 
families. That these people had no objection to yourself 
is indicated by the fact that when the ballot had been 
announced on motion of a gentleman representing one 


20 The World, the Church and the Devil 

of these families and seconded by the representative of 
the other, this ‘Call’ in your favor was made unanimous. 
It is not 1 usual in our Presbytery for a Congregation as 
large and influential as St. Giles to call so young a 
minister as yourself, but this is apparently the will of 
the people, and I would very heartily congratulate you. 
You will find a great work to do in Mapleton, and the 
Presbytery, earnestly hoping that you would accept this 
call regarding it as a call from God, has provisionally on 
your acceptance of the same set the date for your 
Ordination and Induction upon the third of next month 
at four o’clock in the afternoon. On that day the Pres- 
bytery will meet in special session within the vestry of 
the Church at two o’clock for your Ordination Trials. 

“Yours faithfully, 

“A. G. Ross, 

“Clerk of Safford Presbytery .” 

Laying this letter aside, Muir proceeded to 
examine the “Call” — the first “Call” that he 
had received, and with deepening interest, line 
by line, he read the solemn words : 

“We, office-bearers and members of the Congregation 
of St. Giles’ Church, Mapleton, Ontario, being communi- 
cants, desirous of promoting the glory of God and the 
good of His Church, being destitute of a fixed pastor, 
and being satisfied by our experience of the piety, litera- 
ture, ministerial abilities and prudence, and also to the 
suitableness to our edification of the gifts of you, Reverend 
James Muir, B.A., B.D., have agreed to invite as we 
by these presents do invite and call you, and on your 
acceptance of this our ‘Call,’ we promise you due respect, 
encouragement and obedience in the Lord and further 


The Call 21 

engage to contribute to your suitable maintenance as 
God may prosper us. 

“In Witness whereof we have subscribed this Call on 
this the fifth day of January in the year of our Lord 
one thousand eight hundred and ninety-three .” 1 

The winter twilight was fading into darkness 
as Muir finished reading these words — indeed, it 
was now too dark for him to decipher the long 
list of names appended. Leaning back in his 
chair, and still holding the Call in his hand, he 
closed his eyes. He was deeply moved; some- 
thing had told him that this was the voice of 
God commanding him to launch out into the 
deep, and that this command he must obey. The 
opportunity for which throughout all his college 
years he had sought to qualify himself, and which 
had been both desired and dreaded by him, had 
now at length appeared. His thoughts wandered 
back through the halls of memory, and he gazed 
again upon the old familiar scenes of his boy- 
hood. 

Years before, when seated in the old Scotch 
Kirk of his boyhood, “St. Columba’s of the Cha- 
teauguay,” he had heard a voice which had pene- 
trated to the very depths of his soul, and he had 
beheld a vision that had disturbed his former 
contentment. 

1 From “Rules and Forms of Procedure.” 


22 The World , the Church and the Devil 

That Congregation had, the week previously, 
been strangely moved by the burning message 
of Robertson of Erromanga. Sunday evening 
came, and as the venerable minister, Reverend 
David Williamson, faced his congregation his 
noble features glowed with a light that was 
strangely impressive, and the congregation was 
more than ordinarily attentive as he announced 
the words of his text, 

“The Harvest is great and the 
Laborers are few.” 

With chaste, yet moving eloquence, he pictured 
the vast needs of the world and the lamentable 
scarcity of ministers. In the course of his ear- 
nest discourse he related a story in the life of 
the great Scottish Reformer, John Knox. He 
vividly described the ancient Cathedral of St. 
Andrews and that never-to-be-forgotten Sunday 
upon which John Knox, as he sat in the congre- 
gation, was startled and abashed by the direct 
appeal of John Rough, who summoned him pub- 
licly to come forth as a preacher of the Holy 
Evangel, saying: “J°h n Knox, in the name of 
God and of His Son Jesus Christ and in the 
name of those here present who call you by my 
mouth, I charge you that you refuse not this 


The Call 


23 


holy vocation, but that you tender the glory of 
God, the increase of Christ’s Kingdom, the edi- 
fication of your brethren, and the comfort of me, 
whom you understand well enough to be op- 
pressed with the multitude of labors, that you 
take upon you the public office and charge of 
preaching, even as you look to avoid God’s heavy 
displeasure and desire that He shall multiply 
His Graces with you.” And then the Reverend 
David Williamson added, with a solemnity never 
to be forgotten : “ Would to God that this night 
the Spirit of the Living God might by the mem- 
ory of these words, and by the vastness of the 
world’s need, incline some young man to answer 
the call of God as did John Knox, the great 
founder of our Scottish Presbyterian Church”; 
and, repeating his text, “The Harvest is great 
and the Laborers are few,” he earnestly prayed 
that God would send forth laborers into His 
vineyard, and then announced as the closing 
psalm the familiar words so often sung by Scot- 
tish congregations — 

“My closed lips, O Lord, by Thee 
Let them be opened. 

Then shall thy praises by my mouth 
Abroad be published.” 

After the benediction had been pronounced, 


24 The World, the Church and the Devil 


James Muir, who had been deeply moved, sought 
the solitude of the fields, and, coming home to 
the Manse at a late hour, he found that house 
in darkness. A huge oak tree, whose giant size 
testified that it had guarded the Manse for many 
a year while successive ministers had come and 
gone, offered him a retreat as dark and silent 
as a cloister beneath its wide branches. Stand- 
ing beside it, James Muir kept repeating to him- 
self the words of the evening Text and Psalm, 

“The Harvest is great! 

The Laborers are few! 

My closed lips!” 

and then, looking up through the sheltering 
branches, whose trembling leaves, under the 
breath of the night air, seemed to symbolize the 
moving of the Spirit of God, he repeated again 
and again, 

“The Harvest is great! 

The Harvest is great! 

The Laborers are few ! 

The Laborers are few ! 

My closed lips ! 

My closed lips!” 

and then, just as the moon shot its beams through 
the clouds and covered the greensward with its 
peaceful light, falling down on his knees upon 


The Call 


25 

the cold earth as with a complete abandonment, 
he poured out his soul, crying aloud : 

“O Lord, open thou my lips and my mouth shall show 
forth Thy praise.” 

James Muir, like John Knox, had answered 
the call, and the mystery of discipleship was once 
again repeated as he that night resolved to leave 
all and follow Christ. 

Up to that period in his life his thoughts had 
been set on journalism, in which he had already, 
though only a lad, given evidences of more than 
ordinary ability; but now he had heard a voice 
and seen a vision, and the current of his life 
had been changed, as it were, by a miracle — the 
miracle of an answered prayer — a prayer prayed 
by a woman, his mother, who, on the night of 
her death, after looking upon the blue-eyed, 
flaxen-haired babe of her agony, had committed 
her child, so soon to be orphaned, to the Father 
of the fatherless, and had prayed that he might 
be kept from evil like the child Samuel of old, 
and that in the years to come he might by the 
grace of God become a mighty prophet of the 
Most High. 

At length James Muir, rising from his knees, 
sought his room within the Manse. His limbs 


26 The World , the Church and the Devil 

were stiff, for he had long been kneeling on the 
ground; the night was far spent, the morning 
was at hand, and now at last it was light. 

After devoting years to study and preparation, 
the seal of God had been set to this call of the 
Spirit by the recent action of the congregation 
of St. Giles. 

Rising, and putting on his overcoat, he went 
out, but not to the restaurant where he usually 
dined. Taking the car uptown to Sherwood 
Street, he made his way to the home of a wealthy 
New York family whom business reasons had 
compelled to reside in the City of Mere des Vil- 
les. 

“Oh, Muir, come in! Glad to see you, domi- 
nee! But you look as if you had seen a ghost. 
Come and join us in the dining room/’ And 
when the coffee had been served and the chil- 
dren had retired, Muir related the news of his 
“Call/’ and, taking from his pocket the large 
blue envelope, he handed it to the host. 

“Orthodox blue, all right, Muir,” said the host. 
“Ordination Trials at 2 P. M. Ahem! Take 
care, Muir — these preachers will scalp you — 
verbal inspiration, you know — Methuselah lived 
to be 999 years old, and all that sort of thing! 
Ha, ha! You’ll have to swallow it all, confes- 


The Call 


27 


sion of faith included. Well, make one big gulp 
of it — that’s what Ranny of Glasgow, I under- 
stand, advised young Foran to do — swallow it 
whole, just as you would an oyster!” 

“Why, Carl!” reprovingly exclaimed his wife, 
whose orthodoxy was only surpassed by the kind- 
ness of her heart. “You are simply incorrigible. 
I do wish you would read Doctor Payson’s book 
on the 'Fundamentals of our Christian Faith.’ ” 
At which words Carl Klemperer uttered a laugh. 

“You need not laugh, Carl,” insisted his wife. 
“I myself always enjoy Doctor Payson’s books. 
His arguments are always logical, and he sup- 
ports so strongly the point of view mother al- 
ways believed in.” 

Carl Klemperer was too much of a gentleman 
to reply that to his way of thinking the said 
Dr. Payson was an old fossil, the sort of me- 
chanical genius who would have made a first- 
class defender of the Ptolemaic theory of the 
universe. So he simply replied : “Well, Muir, 
I wish you all sorts of luck. I had hoped that 
you might have decided to go into business, but 
I fancy the die is set now. All the same, I fear 
you will find out that nowadays people are more 
interested in things than in ideas. If you are 
short of cash, drop into the office any day be- 


28 The World, the Church and the Devil 

tween one and two. People, you know, are al- 
ways liable to be economical when the matter of 
their souls is concerned.” 

“Oh, well,” replied Muir, “if the good people 
see that the preachers never get too much the 
good Lord will see that they never get too little.” 

“Let us go up to the library,” said Klemperer, 
and, as he led the way, he added : “Mulner’s 
new German work on the miracles has just come 
in, and it knocks many of the old orthodox theo- 
ries higher than a kite.” 


CHAPTER III 


THE ORDINATION OF MR. JAMES MUIR 

T N February, 18 — , the long cold spell that had 
-■-held all nature for weeks as in a vise, had 
broken and a mild night was followed by a 
springlike morning. Towards noon the sky be- 
came overcast, and great, soft flakes of snow, 
which dissolved as soon as they touched the pave- 
ment, were falling as the members of Safford 
Presbytery made their way to St. Giles’ Church. 

Muir entered the vestry promptly at two 
o’clock, alone. Among all the clerical faces 
which eyed him critically as he walked to 
a chair in the far end of the room there was 
only one with which he was familiar, and the 
presence of that one strong, friendly counte- 
nance, which shot a quick, encouraging glance in 
his direction as he took his seat, restored to him 
his usual composure. 

This man was one of the most outstanding 
educationists in Canada, and had been for many 
29 


30 The World, the Church and the Devil 

years Principal of the Theological College lo- 
cated in the City of Mere des Villes. Through 
his classes Muir had passed with high honors 
prior to his post-graduate studies in Edinburgh. 

After the Court had been called to order by 
two sharp taps on the table, the Moderator rose 
and saying reverently, “Let us pray,” offered the 
following Invocation : 

“Almighty and everlasting God, who by thy holy Spirit 
didst preside at the first meeting of the Apostles and 
Elders at Jerusalem, and dost still inhabit the whole com- 
pany of the faithful; mercifully regard, we beseech Thee, 
thy servants chosen and gathered before Thee at this 
time as a Court of Thy Church. Shed down upon them 
all heavenly wisdom and grace; enlighten them with the 
true knowledge of thy word; inflame them with a pure 
zeal for thy glory; and so order all their doings through 
thy good Spirit that unity and peace shall prevail among 
them; that truth and righteousness shall flow from them; 
and that, by their endeavors, all Thy ministers and 
churches shall be established and comforted, Thy Gospel 
everywhere purely preached and truly followed, Thy 
Kingdom among men extended and strengthened and the 
whole body of Thine elect people grow up into Him who 
is the Head over all things to the Church, Jesus Christ 
our Lord, Amen.” 1 

1 Prayer from “Presbyterian Forms of Service.” Issued 
by Devotional Service Association in connection with the 
United Presbyterian Church. Edinburgh: MacNiven and 
Wallace, 1899. 


The Ordination of Mr. James Muir 31 

When the “Amen” had been pronounced the 
Moderator and other members of the Court, who 
had been standing during the prayer, resumed 
their seats; whereupon, the Moderator address- 
ing the Court said : 

“Fathers and Brethren, we are assembled here to-day 
for the purpose of taking on Trial for Ordination to the 
Office of the Ministry our young brother, Mr. James 
Muir, and should his Trial be sustained of Ordaining and 
Inducting him minister of St. Giles. Mr. Muir is now 
present with us, and I take pleasure in presenting him to 
this Court.” 

At this point in the proceedings, Muir rose 
respectfully from his chair: 

“Thank you, Mr. Muir; please be seated. Fathers and 
Brethren, what is your pleasure?” 

After a moment’s pause the Reverend Mal- 
colm McLennan of Zorra Church, Safford, rose 
and, addressing the Moderator, said : “Modera- 
tor, I move you that, inasmuch as the candidate 
has already been licensed to preach the Gospel 
within the bounds of our Church by the Presby- 
tery of Mere des Villes and is widely known 
for his intellectual attainments, we therefore 
dispense with the formality of an examination, 
authorize his Ordination, and proceed to take up 
the other items on the docket.” 


32 The World, the Church and the Devil 

“A wud second that motion, Moderator,” said 
the senior elder of St. Giles. 

Upon this, there was a murmur heard around 
the vestry and the Reverend Fulton Small, who 
himself had been an unsuccessful candidate for 
the pulpit of St. Giles, and whose clerical collar 
rather than his features suggested that he also 
was a minister, rose abruptly and said, with a 
thin metallic tone in his voice, “Moderator, I 
would like to remind Mr. McLennan that the 
examination of a candidate who appears before 
any of our Presbyteries is no formality. It is 
an old and honored custom in our church and 
dates back to the Reformation times. I would 
also remind our brother that after the Reforma- 
tion in Scotland Theological students were com- 
pelled to go abroad to the Continent for their 
course in Divinity. The Colleges of that time 
in Scotland only taught the humanities and the 
founders of our great and honored church very 
properly appointed Ordination Trials for every 
Theological graduate of Geneva or other Con- 
tinental schools who returned to Scotland to enter 
upon the active ministry of the Church. 

“How else save by a searching examination 
were the Church Fathers to satisfy themselves 
that the Theological attainments of the candi- 


The Ordination of Mr. James Muir 33 

dates were adequate, nay more, how else could 
they be sure that, under the tuition and influence 
of foreign professors they had not imbibed heret- 
ical opinions? I move in amendment that this 
Court proceed to fulfil its duty according to the 
Rules and Forms of procedure which prevail 
amongst us and take the candidate upon Trial 
for Ordination/’ 

This amendment was immediately seconded by 
his own elder who had that morning driven in 
with the Reverend Fulton Small from the Parish 
of Awabac in the Queens bush. This elder added 
that it was well known that this particular young 
candidate had studied under Marcus Dods, whose 
orthodoxy had been at times questioned. 

“Question — Question!” resounded throughout 
the vestry, and the amendment of the Reverend 
Fulton Small was carried by a large majority. 

The Moderator forthwith called upon the Clerk 
to read the names of those who had been charged 
by the Presbytery with the examination of candi- 
dates. For some reason the name of the Rev- 
erend Fulton Small did not appear on the list of 
examiners. For an hour and a half, James Muir, 
standing up and facing the Court, was subjected 
to a continuous fire of questions which were pro- 
pounded by the various examiners. To his credit, 


34 The World , Church and the Devil 

be it said, he did not once fall down, but with a 
perfect composure replied quickly and accurately 
to all the several questions. 

“I move that the Trials of the candidate be sus- 
tained/' at length said the Reverend Murray Don- 
aldson, but before the motion had been seconded, 
the Moderator interjected, “Perhaps some other 
brethren desire to ask the candidate some ques- 
tions." 

After a moment’s pause the Reverend Fulton 
Small called out with his thin metallic voice, 
“Yes, I would like to ask the candidate some 
questions," and forthwith fired at his victim ques- 
tion after question, all of a more or less catchy 
nature. 

To all of these questions Muir making satis- 
factory reply, it was observed that the venerable 
Principal, who was quietly sitting at the side of 
the vestry, with eyes cast down as though 
ashamed, slowly stroked his long gray beard. 

At last the Reverend Fulton Small, still hungry 
for blood, returned to the charge and bitingly 
shot at Muir the words, “What is Traduction- 
ism?" 

Quick as a flash, but in very quiet tones, Muir 
replied, “I beg your pardon, but I do not think 
I heard the question correctly. May I ask you to 


The Ordination of Mr. James Muir 35 

repeat it to me?” “Oh, yes, I’ll repeat it,” said 
Reverend Fulton Small, with a gleam of satis- 
faction in his eyes; “What is Traductionism?” 

Muir turned his head slowly to the Moderator, 
after casting his eye around the vestry, and said, 
“Moderator, I have given careful attention to 
the Divinity Lectures of Professor Flint of Edin- 
burgh and also for three years to the learned 
Theological Expositions of the distinguished 
Principal, who is with us to-day. I have also 
read the Theological Works of Dorner and Shedd 
and Hodge, and I must confess my utter igno- 
rance of the term ‘Traductionism.’ ” 

The Moderator, who had not been following 
the Reverend Fulton Small’s questions any too 
closely, said, “Mr. Small, what was your ques- 
tion?” 

“A very simple question, indeed,” exclaimed 
the irate preacher; “any one pretending to a 
knowledge of theology ought to be able to answer 
it. My question was, ‘What is Traductionism?’ ” 

At this point, Muir, addressing the Moderator, 
said, “Theologians have used the term ‘Tra- 
ducianism’ — perhaps that is what the gentleman 
means.” 

“That’s what I mean,” stammered out the Rev- 
erend Fulton Small, coloring crimson, but his 


36 The World , the Church and the Devil 

question remained unanswered, for the demure 
divines, all save one, were busy just at that mo- 
ment repressing smiles — all save one, and he had 
other thoughts to occupy his attention. He asked 
no more questions of Muir, whose Trials were 
heartily sustained by the Presbytery. 

But the organ could now be heard; the con- 
gregation was assembling and the members of 
the Presbytery adjourned into the Church, all of 
them, with the exception of the Reverend Alex- 
ander Henderson, Moderator, and the Reverend 
Principal Maclvor, who had come all the way 
from the City of Mere des Villes to Ordain his 
former student. 

Alexander Henderson was the minister of 
Perth and Dunkeld Churches, and had the repu- 
tation of being the most scholarly member of the 
Presbytery. 

The more orthodox of the brethren had at 
times whispered among themselves that “Hender- 
son was not sound on the Fundamentals,” but 
his popularity was so great among the High- 
landers of Dunkeld, whose hearts he had com- 
pletely won by speaking the Gaelic, that he was 
not likely ever to be charged with heresy. 

Some five years previously, when he had been 
accused of what was known as Moderatism and 


The Ordination of Mr. James Muir 37 

was regarded as somewhat lacking in evangelical 
zeal, the people of the Perth Congregation, who 
were Lowlanders and intensely evangelistic, had 
become dissatisfied with Henderson, and one of 
their elders, Henry Moir by name, had reported 
to the Presbytery that “Henderson was not 
preaching the Gospel,” whereupon the Presbytery 
had appointed a special meeting at Perth for the 
purpose of investigating the whole matter. The 
Highlanders from Dunkeld congregation ap- 
peared that day in full force and it was apparent 
that they had come with blood in their eyes. 

None of them understood a word of English 
except Roderick MacTaggart, their leader, and 
even his knowledge of that “dialect,” as he him- 
self termed it, was scant indeed. 

As Roderick entered the Church, at the head 
of his clansmen, one of them whispered to him, 
“Give it to them, Roddy; you’ll not be afraid to 
speak up for the Henderson.” 

To this Roderick answered but one word, 
“Wait,” and his lips closed like a vice. 

Testimony was offered, in due course, to the 
Court by Mr. Moir, the elder of Perth, that 
“Mr. Henderson had not been preaching the Gos- 
pel,” and further that “he had lost the love of 
some of* the Congregation at Perth, and there- 


38 The World , the Church and the Devil 

fore it had become his painful duty to ask the 
Presbytery upon behalf of the Session of Perth 
to have Mr. Henderson removed.” 

As Moir gave his evidence, Roderick eyed him 
with a look as dark as Egypt. 

He did not understand all the charges, not 
being well acquainted with the English, but he 
did appreciate that Elder Moir was attacking his 
beloved minister. 

“A dirty hypocrite, he is,” Roderick muttered 
to MacDonald, who sat beside him. 

“Yes,” said MacDonald. “He’ll make the 
long-faced prayers and take round the sacrament 
to the Sassenach, but for why did Jessie Munro 
fly out of his house at night and run all the way 
home through the cold rain and dark — and she’s 
never been to the Kirk since — poor Jessie, and 
she was such a peautiful girl.” 

“Is Mr. Roderick MacTaggart present?” called 
out the Moderator. 

Roderick stood up. 

“Mr. MacTaggart,” said the Moderator, ad- 
dressing himself to this Highlander, “Mr. Moir 
has informed the Court that the Minister, the 
Reverend Mr. Henderson, has not been preaching 
the Gospel, and moreover that he has lost the 
love of the people — what do you say to that?” 


The Ordination of Mr. James Muir 39 

Roderick did not know what the English word 
“Gospel” meant. He understood that the charge 
was that the people had lost their love for Hen- 
derson. Drawing himself up to his full height, 
he said, looking hard at the Moderator, “Mod- 
erator, I will ask Mr. Moir for what reason 
Jessie Munro, the peautifulest girl in our set- 
tlement, ran away from his house at twelve 
o’clock one night, yes, the night that Mrs. John- 
ston’s baby died and Mrs. Moir was stopping 
with her ?” 

“Order, order !” shouted Moir, who had turned 
as pale as a ghost, but the impetuous Highland 
stream had broken loose and Roderick shouted 
out, “Moir, Moir — he is a villain. Henderson — 
Henderson not preach ta Gospel! — We don’t 
want ta Gospel — we want ta Gaelic, and any man 
that wouldn’t love the Henderson wouldn’t love 
God.” 

Since that never-to-be-forgotten day no other 
man had ever had the temerity to accuse Rev- 
erend Alexander Henderson of heresy. 


CHAPTER IV 


“YE GATES, LIFT UP YOUR HEADS ON 

HIGH"’ 

T ET us unite in the public worship of God 
'by singing to his praise a part of the 
twenty-fourth psalm beginning with the third 
verse.” 

Who is the man that shall ascend into the hill of God? 
Or who within his holy place shall have a firm abode? 

Whose hands are clean, whose heart is pure, and unto 
vanity 

Who hath not lifted up his soul, nor sworn deceitfully. 

He from th’ Eternal shall receive the blessing him upon, 
And righteousness, ev’n from the God of his salvation. 

Ye gates, lift up your heads on high; ye doors that last 
for aye, 

Be lifted up, that so the King of glory enter may. 

As the Reverend Alexander Henderson read 
these words a solemn hush crept over the congre- 
gation and as the words of the last verse were 
sung it seemed that day to James Muir as though 
40 


“Ye Gates , Lift up Your Heads” 41 


the gates of heaven had been thrown wide open 
and that he saw with his own eye the King in all 
His Glory and the Redeemed of the Lord around 
the Throne. 

After prayer the minister announced as his 
text these words from the psalm : 

“I have laid help upon one that is Mighty — 

I have exalted one chosen out of the people,” 

together with the words from the Gospel : 

“Ye did not choose me, but I chose you and ordained 
you, that ye should go and bear fruit and that your fruit 
should abide.” 

The opening and closing words of the sermon 
which followed made the deepest impression upon 
Muir and remained in his mind. 

“The doctrine of Election is announced by these words. 
This doctrine runs through all the pages of Scripture 
like a thread of gold. 

“From the days of Abraham down to the present time 
we observe in every age a line of chosen men ; first a man, 
then a family, then a nation, then upon the stalk of that 
nation there blossomed one perfect flower — the Elect-Race- 
Man in whom all nations of the earth shall be blessed. 
In both the Old and New Testaments the Elect of God 
were elected to serve. 

“The Elect are not elected for their own sakes, but for 
the sake of the Non-Elect, and the only evidence that they 
are elected is produced by their seeking to save the Non- 
Elect. 


42 The World , the Church and the Devil 


“As Freemantle has affirmed in ‘The World the Subject 
of Redemption/ the principle of election is always appar- 
ent. By this is not meant an arbitrary selection of indi- 
viduals or of nations to be made happy or good, while the 
rest are excluded; but their call to preeminent service, 
often to preeminent suffering, with a view to the final 
inclusion of the rest.” 

And then Moderator Henderson concluded his 
sermon with these words : 

“All life is mediatorial — all life is vicarious — from end 
to end in saving our own souls, we are working for others’ 
salvation. 

“When the enemy comes in like a flood and when evil 
presses us sore, is this not enough to nerve us to nobler 
efforts? 

“For my brethren’s sake, I will stand firm; for them I 
will hold the fort; for them I will seal the covenant — 
aye, if need be crimson, with my blood.” 

Such was the general argument of his discourse. 

At the close of the sermon the Moderator 
slowly descended the pulpit steps, and taking his 
place behind the Communion Table announced : 

“Mr. James Muir, your minister elect, having sustained 
his Ordination Trials this day before the Presbytery of 
Safford, will now take upon him the solemn vows of his 
Holy Office as a Minister of Jesus Christ, in the Presby- 
terian Church.” 

At these words, Muir rose and, advancing to- 
wards the Communion Table, stood facing the 


“Ye Gates , Lift up Your Heads” 43 

Moderator and in front of the vast congrega- 
tion. 

He was of athletic build, almost six feet in 
height, and proportionately broad across the 
shoulders, his head, which was unusually large, 
was covered with an abundance of hair and as 
the setting sun streamed in through the western 
window and shone upon it, it looked like beaten 
gold. 

Addressing him, the Moderator propounded 
the usual questions, concluding with : 

“Do you engage in the strength of the Lord Jesus 
Christ, to live a holy and circumspect life, and faithfully 
and diligently to discharge all the duties of the Ministry 
to the edification of the body of Christ ?” 1 

Muir having made satisfactory response, the 
Moderator, turning to the Congregation, said : 

“If any person has objections to offer against the life 
or doctrine of James Muir let him appear before the 
Presbytery now in session and lodge certification thereof 
with proof.” 1 

No word of objection having been offered, 
Muir knelt down, the members of Presbytery 
encircled him, and placing their hands upon his 
head, he was solemnly ordained by the laying on 
of the hands of the Presbytery and the following 

1 “Rules and Forms of Procedure.” 


44 The World , the Church and the Devil 


prayer which was offered by the Venerable Prin- 
cipal of the College in Mere des Villes — the Rev- 
erend Donald Maclvor: 

“O Lord God Almighty whose name is holy, we thank 
thee for the unspeakable gift of thy Son Jesus Christ and 
for the word of truth by which he has been revealed to 
us as the Savior. 

“We bless thee for Thy love to the Church. Thou 
hast been her strength in weakness, her light in darkness, 
her defense in the day of evil, and the source of her 
patience, faith and triumph in all ages. 

“With the laying on of the hand of the Presbytery 
do thou endue thy servant with the gifts of the Holy 
Ghost, fill him with the wisdom and patience, the love and 
gentleness of Christ, and may the blessing of those who 
are ready to perish fill his soul with joy.” 1 

As James Muir rose up from his knees the 
Moderator of Presbytery gave him the right 
hand of fellowship, saying: 

“In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, the only King 
and Head of the Church, and by the authority of the 
Presbytery of Safford, I invite you to take part of this 
Ministry with us, induct you to the pastoral charge of 
this congregation, and admit you to all the rights and 
privileges thereto pertaining.” 2 

1 Prayer from “Presbyterian Forms of Service.” Issued 
by the Devotional Service Association in connection with 
the United Presbyterian Church. Edinburgh: MacNiven 
and Wallace, 1899. 

2 “Rules and Forms of Procedure.” 


“Ye Gates, Lift up Your Heads” 45 


After the other members of Presbytery had 
also given Muir the right hand of fellowship the 
Congregation was dismissed with the doxology 
and benediction, and as they passed out each 
member was presented to the new minister, who 
stood at the door of the Church. 


CHAPTER V 


MAPLETON FIRESIDES 

i 

MR. JOHN MACGREGOR’S 

A FTER the Ordination service the various 
-^members of Presbytery, who had not left 
Mapleton by the evening train were entertained 
in the hospitable homes for which that city was 
noted. 

James Muir, now the Reverend James Muir, 
had been invited by the Senior Elder of St. Giles, 
Mr. John MacGregor, to dine with him at Sunny- 
brae. The fact was, old John already had, as his 
guest, the Reverend Principal Maclvor, and being 
a man of few words, he rather dreaded the enter- 
taining of this distinguished clergyman alone. 

It had occurred to him that Muir might help 
to make the evening pass, and then deep down in 
his heart there was still another reason. 

46 


Mapleton Firesides 47 

With his proverbial Scotch caution he coveted 
the opportunity of studying Muir. 

At luncheon that day, the Reverend Principal 
Maclvor, with his usual forethought for the com- 
fort of his students, had remarked that “Muir 
was a fine young man, that he had been brought 
up in an old Scotch Manse, and that it was to 
be hoped that inasmuch as he was not so fortu- 
nate yet as to be married, he might be invited to 
make his home with some private family, where 
he would have the necessary quiet and seclusion 
to prepare his sermons.” 

This remark proved to be a “word in season” ; 
it found lodgment in Mrs. MacGregor’s big heart 
and started her thinking. So it had happened 
that, after luncheon, taking her husband aside, she 
remarked to him, “we micht ask the new Meenis- 
ter ta stay wi’ us, John. — An’ sure oor house is 
big eneuch an’ sairly empty syne oor ain bairns 
hae flitted ta hames o’ their ain, an’ it’s jist lone- 
some eneuch ta see a’ thae rooms shut up.” 

To this her husband had replied, “Too bad that 
Agnes mairrit that ne’er-da-weel, Jack Brewster. 
She was aye a’ bonnie lass an’ he’s a guid for 
naething — but she wud hae him an’ he’s drinking 
again worse than iver an’ John’s wife will aye 
keep him poor, am thinkin, she’s so extravagant, 


48 The World , the Church and the Devil 

wi’ a’ her new-fangled notions.” 

''That’s a fac’,” said his wife, with a strong 
Scotch accent, "but Am jist thinkin’ that Mr. 
Muir wull be takin’ Brewster in hand an’ may be 
Jack micht stap his drinkin’ yet. A’ve often 
prayed to God for him an’ las’ nicht A’ got a 
verse that seemed like an answer frae Heaven. 
Gin we had the Meenister stayin’ wi’ us, he wud 
get ta ken Jack in a freendly way — no jist i’ tha 
way o’ pastoral formalities, an’ he micht hae a 
better chance to influence him.” 

“Weel, A’ll bring him hame tha nicht for din- 
ner,” answered John, "an’ we’ll see what kind o’ 
a man he is oot o’ tha pulpit, an’ afterwards if 
yer o’ the same way o’ thinkin’, A’ll no say that 
yer not ta gie him the spare room wi’ tha wee 
room across the hall for a study.” 

After the dinner had been served, John Mac- 
Gregor led the young minister into the library, 
his wife coming in a few moments later with 
the Principal, who had remained to admire a 
massive clock that stood on the mantel. This 
clock was patterned in heavy bronze after the 
architectural lines of the tower of Westminster 
Abbey, and had chimes whose mellow sound re- 
minded one of the tones that daily peal from its 
bells and fall like benediction on the people who 


Mapleton Firesides 


49 


traverse the streets below. 

“Ye ken John’s brither was laid away there,” 
said Mrs. MacGregor to the Principal. 

“A great man of God,” answered the Prin- 
cipal, “and a dauntless explorer whose labors 
added one million square miles to the known 
world. I suppose you have some of his personal 
belongings.” 

“Oo, aye,” replied Mrs. MacGregor, “his sister 
sent John the brown great coat that he wore on 
his last journey in Africa. A’ll tell Mary ta bring 
it inta tha library.” 

“I wish you would,” said the Principal ; “it 
would, indeed, be a very great privilege to see it.” 

“Oh, ye can pit it on,” said Mrs. MacGregor, 
adding, “it’s big an’ roomy.” 

Soon after they entered the library, the maid 
came in, carrying over her arm the brown great 
coat which had belonged to David MacGregor, 
and handed it to the Principal. Thrusting his 
arms through the sleeves, he said, with a tone of 
reverence in his voice : 

“To think that these sleeves once covered the 
arms of him who struck the shackles from the 
slaves,” and then buttoning the coat about his 
chest, he added, “and this very coat covered the 
bravest heart that Scotland ever gave to the 


So The World, the Church and the Devil 

world. Have you any of his letters ?” 

“Oo, aye — John has mony o’ them,” then ad- 
dressing herself to her husband, she said, “John 
wull ye no let tha Principal see some o’ David’s 
letters?” 

Opening the great steel safe, which was built 
into the wall of the library, John MacGregor 
brought out a packet of letters and selecting one 
which David had written to his grand-nephew, 
Robert, who was but a child of eleven at that 
time, he said, “If A’ had ma specs A’ wud read it 
ta ye, Principal Maclvor.” 

“Never mind your spectacles, Mr. MacGregor,” 
replied the Principal. “Mr. Muir has good eyes ; 
let him read the letter aloud,” and as they all sat 
down around the fireplace, Muir read as follows : 

Bangola Valley. 

My dear Robert: 

I was very much pleased to receive your letter which 
was so neatly written and correctly spelled, and I have 
observed with great satisfaction that you are making good 
progress in your studies. You have asked me if there are 
many wild beasts in this country, and I may tell you that 
there are very, very many. Some days ago as we worked 
our way through this long valley, we saw great herds of 
them, but the men found it very difficult to shoot them, 
for these herds of cattle were always accompanied by 
flocks of birds, which concealed themselves in the long, 
coarse, grass where the animals were feeding, and when- 


Mapleton Firesides 


5.i 


ever a hunter came near they rose up in flocks and, flying 
swiftly across the herd of cattle, uttered a screeching 
noise. This alarmed the beasts and they immediately 
made off as fast as their legs could carry them. The 
natives call these birds “guardian birds,” because they 
warn the wild animals of danger. And this reminds me 
that little boys and girls have their “guardian birds,” 
too, little voices which warn them not to do anything 
that is wrong. Always be warned, Robert, by that little 
voice that sounds within you and you will grow up to be 
a brave and true man. 

Your affectionate uncle, 

David MacGregor. 

“Conscience,” said the Principal, “that ‘incor- 
ruptible warrior ’ 1 which God has placed like a 
sentinel beside the door of every human heart, to 
proclaim Heaven’s law to the soul.” 

“Aye, aye,” answered old John, and then fall- 
ing into a reminiscent mood, he added, “ye ken 
after David was laid away in Westminster Abbey 
A’ gaed ower and A’ was standin’ yin day lookin’ 
at his grave, when a company o’ American tour- 
ists came up an’ they askit tha verger mony ques- 
tions aboot David. He was an intelligent body 
an’ telt them maistly a’ they wanted ta ken, but 
at last they askit him a question that he cudna 
answer. He just said that he didna ken. A’ 

1 Expression used by George Douglas, D.D., “Discourses 
and Addresses.” William Briggs, Toronto. 


52 The World , the Church and the Devil 

was standin’ there an’ A’ cud hae telt them, but 
they didna ken that A’ was his brither an’ A’ 
wasna sayin’ onything.” 

“What a pity that they did not know they were 
standing so near to David’s elder brother! Of 
course, they were not expecting to see him there,” 
said Muir. After a moment’s pause he added, 
lowering his voice with deep solemnity, “We all 
have an elder brother and He is not far from any 
one of us.” 

They sat in silence for some time, before the 
fire, while the logs burned low. That night old 
John MacGregor said to his wife, “Am thinkin’ 
ye better say ta tha Meenister that he can hae 
the spare room an’ that we’ll be gled ta hae him 
make his sermons in the wee room across the 
hall.” 


ii 

W. G. HALE’S 

The Reverend Alexander Henderson, Mod- 
erator of the Presbytery of Safford, at the close 
of the Ordination Service had walked home 
arm in arm with W. G. Hale, a well-known citizen 
of Mapleton. Although they were both men up- 


Mapleton Firesides 


S3 


wards of sixty years of age, their erect bearing 
and energetic strides gave them the appearance 
of being much younger men. 

The friendship that existed between them had 
continued throughout all the changes of these 
many years, in fact, from the days of their boy- 
hood, when they had together attended the Parish 
School of Glen Athol in Scotland, and it was 
owing to this circumstance that Hale, who some 
time previously had given up his pew in St. Giles, 
had been present that afternoon, at the Ordina- 
tion Service. 

Among the business men of Mapleton, Hale 
was regarded as a man of keen intelligence, a man 
whose word was as good as his bond, and more 
than one political orator had met his Waterloo 
under the fire of his forceful logic. 

The women of St. Giles were somewhat divided 
in their opinions regarding this man ; by the more 
charitable among them, he was regarded as a 
man who had become most unfortunately unset- 
tled in his religious views, while some others went 
so far as to say that he was a most dangerous 
skeptic. 

Whatever deviations from the strict path of 
orthodoxy might characterize his present mental 
attitude, there was no doubting the fact that as 


54 The World , the Church and the Devil 


a boy in the Parish School of Glen Athol, he had 
been thoroughly grounded in the Holy Scrip- 
tures and the Shorter Catechism, by old Doctor 
Leather, the Parish School Master. 

Ephraim Leather, for such was his name, had 
occupied the dual office in the Parish of Glen 
Athol of Parish School Master and Clerk of Ses- 
sion in the Kirk and he was strong in the The- 
ology of the times succeeding the Reformation. 
Holding in common with all Presbyterians of 
that age that the word of God which is contained 
in the Scriptures of the Old and New Testament, 
is the only rule to direct us how we may glorify 
and enjoy God, this Doctor Ephraim Leather had 
almost worshiped the literal words of the Bible in 
the English version and he insisted that the sacred 
writers of the Bible were the passive instruments, 
the amanuenses of the Divine Spirit and were 
used by the Divine Spirit like a harp or lyre, from 
which the plectrum elicits whatever tones it will. 
Thus, these writers being the passive instruments 
of the Divine Spirit, he held that every word in 
the Bible was stamped with the seal of infallibil- 
ity. Nor did he make any allowance for possible 
errors which might have crept in through the 
work of translators. Vain of his Latin, he used to 
sum up his position with great gusto in these 


Mapleton Firesides 


55 


words: “Impulsus ad scribendum,” “Sugges- 

tio rerum,” “Suggestio verborum.” Ephraim 
Leather had accepted the doctrine of the verbal 
inspiration of the Scriptures and so he had taught 
in the Parish School of Glen Athol. 

It had been his invariable custom to commence 
the school exercises every morning by the sing- 
ing of a psalm, the repetition in concert of the 
Lord’s Prayer, and the reading of a chapter from 
the Word, followed by such expository remarks 
as the old Domsie felt moved to offer. 

For many years after he had gone to his re- 
ward, the story was whispered in the Glen, of 
how William Hale’s boy, who was regarded as 
having been as full of mischief as an egg is full 
of meat, had on one occasion neatly pasted to- 
gether two pages in the Bible that always lay on 
the old School Master’s desk, and how one morn- 
ing the old Domsie, not being aware of the trick 
that had been perpetrated upon him, soberly read 
from the Book of Genesis, “and Noah’s wife was 
(turning over the page) three hundred cubits 
long, fifty cubits broad and thirty cubits deep and 
pitched within and without with pitch.” It seemed 
to him as he read these words that surely some- 
thing must be wrong, and carefully adjusting 
his spectacles, he turned the page back and read 


56 The World, the Church and the Devil 

the words over again. Whereupon, in the en- 
thusiasm of his literalism, he exclaimed aloud, 
“A’ never saw it that way before, but it mon be a 
fac’, for it’s in the Book.” 

On the night of the Ordination, after the other 
members of the Hale household had retired, Hale 
and his guest sat long in front of the glowing 
fire, indulging in happy reminiscences of their 
boyhood. 

“You remember old Ephraim Leather!” said 
Henderson. 

“Remember him, I’ll never forget the old 
martinet and the inhuman beating he gave me 
when I failed to answer the question, ‘What is 
the misery of that estate whereinto man fell?’ ” 

“All mankind, by their fall, lost communion 
with God, are under his wrath and curse, and so 
made liable to all the miseries of this life, to death 
itself and to the pains of hell forever,” slowly 
repeated Henderson. 

“That’s it,” exclaimed Hale, “but who believes 
a word of it nowadays? To think that men, no 
matter how decent they are, are irrevocably 
doomed to all the miseries of this life, and to the 
pains of hell forever, and all because of the fact 
that one man centuries upon centuries ago ate 
the forbidden fruit. Small wonder that, as a boy, 


Mapleton Firesides 


57 


I could not say it. I have never been able to 
say it and if I believed for a moment that it was 
true, I would hate God,” and then the old hard- 
headed Scot added beneath his breath, “the pains 
of hell forever! I would not throw a dog into 
such a place,” and raising his voice, he continued, 
“yet this and more like it is still the accepted doc- 
trine of the Presbyterian Church. It is in their 
confession of faith, to which you made Muir 
swear allegiance this afternoon. Blasphemy! 
blasphemy ! Henderson. I do not understand how 
you men can stand for such medieval scholasti- 
cism. No thinking man, nowadays, really believes 
in all this seventeenth century stuff. It’s high 
time that the old and antiquated confession was 
modernized and that the accredited results of 
modern Biblical scholarship were plainly set 
forth by the standard of the Church of our fath- 
ers. You ministers all take these vows, but how 
many of you ever intend to fulfil them? What 
a piece of play-acting for you as Moderator of 
Presbytery to ask young Muir to-day, ‘Do you 
believe the Westminster Confession of Faith as 
adopted by the Church in the basis of union to 
be founded on and agreeable to the Word of God, 
and in your teaching will you faithfully adhere 
thereto?’ Of course he cannot preach this stuff; 


58 The World, the Church and the Devil 

you yourself didn’t do it to-day in your admirable 
sermon on the Doctrine of Election. You said 
that the Elect were elected for the sake of the 
Non-Elect — elected to service — that’s just what I 
believe — great men, men who were gifted of 
heaven far above their fellows, men like Gari- 
baldi and Abraham Lincoln, men who by the 
might of their gianthood effected the liberties of 
nations. That is the kind of election which I 
believe in, and that is what you preached to-day, 
but that is a very different statement of this doc- 
trine from that which is given in the standards 
of the church which says that, ‘God having out of 
His mere good pleasure from all eternity elected 
some to everlasting life did enter into a covenant 
of grace with them to deliver them out of the 
estate of sin and misery and to bring them into 
an estate of salvation by a Redeemer ,’ 1 and ‘the 
rest of mankind God was pleased according to 
the unsearchable counsel of His own will, where- 
by he extendeth or withholdeth mercy as he pleas- 
eth, for the glory of his sovereign power over 
his creatures to pass by and to ordain them to 
dishonor and wrath for their sin to the praise 
of his glorious justice.’ 

1 “Confession of Faith,” Chapter III, “God’s Eternal 
Decree,” Article VII. 


Mapleton Firesides 


59 


“So far as I can see, you cannot find anything 
in these words from the confession to justify 
your interpretation of election for service, elec- 
tion for the sake of the Non-Elect. They are by 
the foreordination of God elected to be saved or 
elected to be damned and this for the glory of 
His justice. Why doesn’t the church revise it? 
It’s as harsh as the Athanasian Creed of the 
Church of England with all its damnatory 
clauses.” 

“I agree with you, Hale, that there is room in 
these standards of our church for revision. 

“At the same time I think that you have stated 
your case rather strongly and I am not sure that 
you yourself, with all your ability in criticism, 
would be able to draw up a statement of the great 
doctrines taught in the Bible, which would be open 
to less objection. All things made by man are 
more or less characterized by imperfection, and 
at best we all must admit that we can only here 
on earth know in part and see, as it were, through 
a glass darkly. As for the Athanasian Creed, a 
man of your wide information ought to know 
that it has already been excluded from the offices 
of the American Book of Common Prayer of the 
Episcopal Church in the United States, and I 
think the time is drawing near even in Canada 


60 The World, the Church and the Devil 

when those of us who are living will witness great 
changes in present church organization and also 
some modifications in church doctrines. The ap- 
plication of scientific methods to the study of the 
Bible by our Theological Professors is exerting 
a wonderful influence throughout the various 
Evangelical churches of to-day, and it would not 
surprise me, were we, before many years more 
have passed by, to see all these separate denom- 
inational colleges of the churches federated and 
the organic union of the churches would speedily 
follow. When that day shall have come, men will 
see the new church — the United Church of Can- 
ada — rise up in its glory and casting aside the 
cerements of mummified creeds and clothing 
herself in fresh garments of light and love, go 
forth in the morning of a new era, fair as the 
moon, clear as the sun and terrible as an army 
with banners.” 

“I devoutly hope that day may be hastened,” 
exclaimed Hale, and as he uttered the last word, 
the clock in the tower of St. Giles struck twelve 
and a new day had been proclaimed. 


Mapleton Firesides 


61 


hi 

PEMBERTON, OF PEMBERTON VILLA 

Mrs. Junius P. C. Pemberton, of Pemberton 
Villa, was widely known as the leader of the 
smart set in Mapleton. Not that this distinc- 
tion quite satisfied her social aspirations, for 
her insatiable ambition had often whispered 
in her ear that, had her lot been cast among 
the high and mighty of the Capital she would 
have been the bright and ruling star around which 
all other notables would have circled like satellites. 
This dream she now knew could never be fulfilled. 
It had been shattered forever on the day in which 
she had united her fortunes in wedlock to those 
of Junius P. C. Pemberton. The said Junius P. 
C. Pemberton was a man whose one passion had 
been the accumulation of wealth and in this he 
had been more than ordinarily successful. Seated 
in the office of his three-story factory one day in 
his riper years he had related with pride to a 
newspaper correspondent the story of how he 
had worked his way up by his own unaided in- 
dustry from a humble beginning in a little one- 
roomed shop to his present estate of wealth. As 


62 The World , Church and the Devil 

he recounted this personal history and concluded 
his autobiography with the statement that he 
was a self-made man, he might have added, per- 
haps, that he worshiped his Maker ; so the news- 
paper correspondent had thought, but when the 
following week a full half-page in the Daily Ex- 
press was devoted to the story of one of Canada’s 
most successful manufacturers, in the center of 
which write-up appeared the face of Junius P. 
C. Pemberton, there was no reference made, how- 
ever, to his probable self-idolatry. A certain 
cynic had remarked, as he had read this article, 
“Successful earwig, I should say,” and then 
added, “Sure old Junius P. C. might have the 
horse sense to see that they are after his wad for 
campaign funds.” 

While the said Junius was not without self- 
worship, it can be truly affirmed of him that his 
greatest source of satisfaction was derived from 
the social triumphs of his wife. She was a tall 
and graceful woman and had, prior to her mar- 
riage with Junius P. C. Pemberton, been the belle 
of St. Anthony. Gerald Thornton, a young and 
struggling lawyer of that town, had completely 
lost his heart to her, but his suit though ardently 
pursued had proved unavailing, for while she had 
a certain liking and admiration for him, yet he 


Mapleton Firesides 


63 


was poor and her mother zealously advanced the 
suit of old Junius P. C., who was old enough to 
be her father. To the surprise of the dames of 
St. Anthony and of Mapleton the Pemberton- 
Campbell nuptials had been announced and Nan 
Campbell became Mrs. Junius P. C. Pemberton, 
of Pemberton Villa. 

It was not a love match, yet all the parties 
most interested seemed to be well satisfied. Old 
Junius himself, because of his young wife’s social 
successes; her mother because she had success- 
fully accomplished her ambition to marry Nan 
to wealth, and Nan too was fairly well content, 
for if not in the Capital, at least in her own little 
world, she was now the representative woman of 
wealth and social preeminence. 

Her contentment, be it said, had not been quite 
so constant during the past year, for at the last 
General Election, her rejected suitor, whom she 
had never quite forgotten, had been elected to 
Parliament, where he, Gerald Thornton, was in- 
creasingly winning name and fame, indeed, he 
was generally regarded as the coming leader of 
the House. 

About a month after Muir’s Ordination, an 
afternoon tea and reception was given by Mrs. 
Junius P. C. Pemberton, of Pemberton Villa, 


64 The World, the Church and the Devil 

in honor of the return home of her daughter, 
Vernera, who had been spending the past winter 
in New York City, pursuing musical studies and 
incidentally helping her father to get rid of some 
of his surplus cash. 

Petite in appearance, Vernera was nevertheless 
possessed of a certain piquant vivacity, which was 
not without attractiveness. 

“Oh, yes, Vernera’s home again!” said her 
mother to Judith Kinzie, “and I’m so glad — the 
house was as silent as a tomb when she was 
away and the piano was never opened, but she had 
not been home half an hour when all this was 
changed and she was warbling Jakobowski’s Lul- 
laby. She is utterly devoted to music, you know, 
and has been singing in the choir of the Church of 
the Minor Prophets. The Rector, Reverend Doc- 
tor Gullem, wrote me last week that he simply 
adored Vernera and could not possibly get along 
next season without her, for he is planning to 
fyave the Butterfly Guild, as he affectionately 
terms his choir girls, produce a light opera in the 
Parish House next autumn in aid of the mission 
to the lepers.” 

“Doctor Gullem,” exclaimed Judith Kinzie, 
“what an interesting name for a clergyman — but 
he surely must be a very different type of man 


Mapleton Firesides 


65 

from the new minister of St. Giles; Mrs. Mac- 
Gregor was telling mother that Mr. Muir held 
that all missionary money ought to be subscribed 
by voluntary contributions and that unless people 
really felt that they were making a personal sac- 
rifice there was no possible reflex blessing.” 

Just then Vernera came tripping across the 
drawing room, radiant with smiles, and catching 
the last word, “blessing,” teasingly said, “Now 
Judith, you must not begin to preach, Doctor Gull- 
em is just a darling and the Church of the Minor 
Prophets is so liberal and up-to-date, but do tell 
me about the new minister ; I hear he is both 
young and good looking and a perfect orator in 
the pulpit; I think I’ll have to join the choir.” 

“I guess we’ll all be roped into the ‘Ladies’ 
Mission Study Class,’ ” exclaimed Edith Carpen- 
ter. “Mr. Muir announced last Sunday that he 
would meet the ladies of the church in Mrs. Mac- 
Gregor’s drawing room on Friday, to organize.” 

“Well, I never,” exclaimed Vernera Pember- 
ton. “Mission Study Classes — sewing circles — 
and prayer meetings would actually drive me to 
drink.” 

“Now, Vernera, you must not speak that way,” 
cautioned her mother. “Mr. Muir is said to be 
£ delightful man, and so enthusiastic in his efforts, 


66 The World, the Church and the Devil 

that I rather think we’ll all have to reform for 
the future and be good.” She added, turning 
to the girls, “You know Vernera has been having 
such a giddy time in New York and her head had 
almost been turned, so much in demand, and 
with Dick Van Konet just ” 

“Now, mother,” interrupted Vernera. 

“Well,” continued her mother, “didn’t Dick 
drive you to the station in his motor car, and who 
was it ordered those gorgeous roses and orchids 
for the stateroom?” 

Just then Jean St. Claire entered the room. 
She was exquisitely gowned in black velvet, wear- 
ing a dainty hat whose soft plumes drooped grace- 
fully down over her wavy brown hair. 

“Why, Jean,” said the girls, surrounding her, 
“you are just too sweet for anything, but what 
has kept you so late? We were afraid that you 
were not coming.” 

“Oh, I called in to see old Mrs. Bruce and 
simply could not tear myself away,” answered 
Jean. “She is in such terrible distress. No, I 
don’t think that David can possibly get better, 
and his mother is just about broken-hearted, and 
she informed me that Mr. Muir had been so kind 
and that she was just sure God had sent him to 
Mapleton to help them in their time of trouble.” 


Mapleton Firesides 


67 

“She is a perfect saint,” exclaimed Mrs. Pem- 
berton. “I certainly must send her some flowers. 
I suppose they lost nearly all they had in the Dili- 
cum bank failure.” 

“I do not think they have been to church since,” 
said Edith Carpenter. 

“Oh, yes, old David was there last Sunday,” 
broke in Judith Kinzie, “dressed in a new suit 
of clothes — somebody must be helping them.” 

“I question very much that they would accept 
charity,” said Mrs. Pemberton; “they are so 
proud that I cannot think who would venture to 
offer them financial help.” 

“Perhaps it’s the new minister,” said Jean St. 
Claire. 

“Very likely,” exclaimed Mrs. Pemberton. “He 
seems to be regarded on all sides as the good 
angel of Mapleton,” then turning to Jean she 
smiled, adding, “I suppose, Jean, that you are 
already deep into church work?” 

“No, Pm not,” answered Jean, “but Grand- 
mother is urging me to take up a class in the 
Sunday School and perhaps I shall do so. You 
know how ardently Grandmother’s sympathies 
always are on the side of church work.” 

“Indeed, I do,” replied Mrs. Pemberton, “Mrs. 
MacGregor was just reciting to me to-day of how 


68 The World , the Church and the Devil 


on a cold New Year’s Eve when the band boys 
came, as was their annual custom, to serenade 
your father, who happened to be out on a case 
that night, your Grandmother had risen and gone 
out with her hands full of tracts, which she dis- 
tributed to the members of the band, saying, 'Sil- 
ver and gold have I none, but such as I have 
give I unto thee,” and Mrs. MacGregor said that 
none of the band boys had resented this rather 
unexpected turn of events, for they all respected 
Mrs. St. Claire’s deep sincerity.” 

Vernera had wandered off to the piano during 
this discussion and Edith Carpenter exclaimed, 
"Oh, let us have some music.” "Yes,” joined all 
the girls in unison, "Vernera, you certainly must 
sing something.” 


CHAPTER VI 


INTO A FAR COUNTRY 

COME twenty years previous to the events al- 
^ ready narrated, David Bruce, with his wife and 
two sons, had been living at Melbourne, where 
David followed the trade of a cabinet maker, to 
which he had served his apprenticeship in Scot- 
land, many years before. 

When he was upwards of forty years of age, 
he had loved and married Janet Main, the comely 
daughter of a widow who had migrated to West- 
ern Canada from England with the purpose of 
improving the fortunes of herself and family. 

The adventurous spirit of her eldest son, Wil- 
liam, had writhed under the unprogressive atmos- 
phere of that town, and one night he suddenly 
announced to his mother that he was going to 
shake its dust off his feet and go to New Mexico. 
The next morning he was gone. At that time but 
little was known of New Mexico in Ontario, save 
that it was said to be a wild and godless country, 
69 


70 The World, the Church and the Devil 


and as the stage which carried William Main 
from Melbourne to Hamilton disappeared over 
the hills, the hope of ever seeing her son again 
died in his mother’s heart, and rightly so, for she 
never set eyes upon him again. 

For many years no word was heard of him. 
Meanwhile, after his mother’s death, his sister, 
Janet, with her husband, David Bruce, and their 
two boys, David and Dick, had left Melbourne 
and taken up their abode in Mapleton, where 
David Bruce, Sr., had been elected and ordained 
an elder in St. Giles. 

As their sons grew up to manhood, old David, 
like the father of Jacob and Esau, had his own 
misgivings as he thought about his boys. 

David, whose only passion, from his childhood, 
had been music and hunting, had on various oc- 
casions participated in several dare-devil scrapes, 
which had filled the hearts of his father and 
mother with anguish. 

Dick, while not given to splendid transgressions 
like his fearless brother, had on more than one 
occasion given evidence of a certain duplicity of 
disposition which had pierced the hearts of his 
parents as with a dagger. 

As the years had passed, Dick had been articled 
in the office of a local lawyer, and this man had 


Into a Far Country 71 

one day remarked that Dick was “as sharp as 
a razor and as cold-blooded as a turtle.” 

Dick was certainly most regular in his habits 
and applied himself with unfailing diligence to 
the duties of the law office, by which assiduity 
he hoped to win wealth and fame at some future 
day. 

With David it had been quite the reverse. His 
course of life since leaving school had been most 
erratic. His father, who was highly respected in 
the city, had secured for him several good op- 
portunities, all of which, however, he had al- 
lowed to slip through his fingers, unimproved. 
His mind was set on nothing but music and when 
he was not absent from home on a hunting ex- 
cursion or spending the nights with the members 
of the “Stag Club,” whose rooms were located in 
the topmost story of the Queen’s Hotel Building, 
he used to sit in his room till late at night, thrum- 
ming the strings of an old harp, of which he 
had possessed himself, much to his father’s irri- 
tation and disgust. 

Such was the condition of the home of David 
Bruce and his family, when, one day, between 
Christmas and New Year’s, a letter bearing the 
Albuk, New Mexico, post mark, and addressed 
to Mrs. David Bruce, was delivered by the post- 


72 77 ie World, the Church and the Devil 

man. 

“This must be from William,” said Mrs. Bruce 
to her husband, as she carefully cut the end off 
the envelope with the large shears that were lying 
on the table. 

“It’s a long time since we’ve heard anything 
from him,” replied old David. “He’s not much 
given to writing and it was a terrible grief to your 
mother that she could not see him once again be- 
fore she died. I’ll never forget how she moaned 
in her last prayer, 'God bless William and keep 
him safe and bring him home to me, for I must 
see my son again.’ He never came back, but I 
have the feeling that he has always had a thought 
of us in his heart. It was a pity he never got 
married, living alone all these years in that new 
country.” 

As David had been saying these words, his wife 
had hurriedly glanced down the pages of the letter 
which she held in her hand. 

At length she said, “David, you better read 
what he says.” 

Taking the letter in his hand and adjusting his 
spectacles, old David read these words aloud : 

Albuk, N. M., December 20th, 18 86. 

Dear Janet : 

As Christmas draws near, my thoughts wander far 


73 


Into a Far Country 

across the plains and hills back to Ontario, a land that I 
can never forget. It is a holy land to me now, for it 
holds the dust of one whose memory shall always be 
sacred — our dear mother. I did not know of her last 
fatal illness until it was all over, and then it was too 
late. Throughout all these years, I have been living 
here — in a wild and godless town. We have no church 
of any denomination to shed a purifying influence among 
the people. Last year an Irish Priest, Father O’Connor, 
passed through this town on his way to his Mission among 
the Pueblo Indians. There had been a washout on the 
railway where it crossed the Rio Grande, and he was 
compelled to stay here over a Sunday. The good man 
celebrated Mass in the saloon — which was the largest room 
in the town. At that service it was filled with men, 
Spaniards and Mexicans and Yankees and Niggers, who 
stood bareheaded, crowded together, as the Priest fulfilled 
his office. His words were all in Latin, and though I 
could not understand a word of what he said — strict 
Protestant as I was — yet it seemed to me as if his voice 
was the voice of God. I had some conversation with 
him, after dinner in the boarding house, ^nd never before 
having had the opportunity to speak to any religious man 
of my great bereavement in Mother’s death, I poured out 
my heart to him. He must have been a man of God, for 
when I had concluded, he laid his hand gently upon my 
shoulder and said, “In Domo Patris Mei Habitationes 
Multae Sunt,” and I asked him what he had said, where- 
upon he replied, “In my Father’s house are many man- 
sions.” These words sounded so full of comfort to my 
sorrowful heart that I asked him to write them down 
for me, and that night before he left he gave me a white 
card with the cross impressed on one side and on the 
other he had written these words from the Gospel and 
signed his name, P. J. O’Connor, S.J. And now to 


74 The World , Church and the Devil 

come to the more immediate purpose of this letter. I 
may say that during the past years of my life here I 
have been prospered. You are aware that I have been 
engaged in the lumber trade and general supply business. 
This business has developed beyond my most sanguine 
expectations and has now assumed proportions far sur- 
passing my own powers of oversight. Honesty is scarcely 
known among many of the people here, who have neither 
the fear of God nor of Man in their hearts, and for months 
I have suffered a considerable loss through the thieving 
propensities of some of those men in my employ. This 
came to a head last week, when my shipping clerk, Dick 
Rifler, decamped to parts unknown after making heavy 
collections of moneys due to me, all of which he took 
with him. It has occurred to me that if David were to 
come to Albuk I could place him in a very lucrative posi- 
tion, in which, as my confidential clerk, he could have 
charge of this department of my business. I would pay 
him good wages and would be not a little comforted with 
the thought that in him I had a man who was strictly 
honest and who could be trusted. I am growing old and 
have a physical infirmity which will never leave me, and 
should David decide to enter heartily into my interests, 
I have it in mind to make him my heir and successor, as 
I have neither wife nor child of my own. It is my earnest 
desire that you and his father should give this matter your 
serious consideration, and if you decide to permit David 
to exercise his choice, and should he be willing to follow 
his uncle to this far away country, his welcome by myself 
is assured. Think well over it and write me at your early 
convenience. 

Your affectionate brother, 

William Main. 


After reading this letter, old David Bruce and 


75 


Into a Far Country 

his wife sat in silence for a long time. The twi- 
light shades deepened and still they sat, each 
busied with thoughts too deep for utterance. 

At length old David rose and went out. It was 
night. The following day he remarked to his 
wife that he had been thinking over William’s 
letter, and what was her opinion ? 

Her eyes filled with tears. “What are you 
thinking, woman?” he inquired. 

“Oh,” she replied, “I’m sure David is honest 
and that he would not violate a trust, but you 
know he’s not been acting in the way we would 
have liked. I fear that there has been drinking 
going on at these rooms of the Stag Club, above 
the Queen’s Hotel, and though I’ve prayed many 
a night for his conversion, I have seen no evi- 
dences of a change of heart, and that’s such a 
wild, godless country and they have no minister 
or churches.” 

“He never goes to church here,” replied her 
husband, “and I do not think that he could find 
worse company anywhere than among these lads 
of the Stag Club, and yet he might commit some 
reckless act were he to be so far removed from 
all restraining influences. However, we are grow- 
ing old and he’ll have to shift for himself some 
day and this may be the hand of Providence held 


76 77 ie World, the Church and the Devil 


out to him. I think we had better let him read 
the letter. ,, 

“Just as you say, David,” replied his wife, “but 
I fear if we do that he will fly away.” 

That night as young David retired to his room, 
his father handed him his uncle’s letter, saying, 
“Read these lines, and may God direct.” 

David decided, in the course of the week, to 
accept his uncle’s offer. 

His parents understood all, although not a word 
had been spoken. They had the reserve of the 
Scotch, who as a race say least when they feel 
most. 

His mother’s heart was full but her hands were 
busy and in the course of a couple of weeks she 
had packed David’s trunk as full as it could hold 
of such articles of wearing apparel as only a 
mother’s love could devise, and, deep in the center 
of the trunk, she had placed her own well-worn 
Bible, which, however, her son never opened 
during all the future years of his absence from 
home. 

At last the morning arrived upon which he was 
to take his departure. 

The train left Mapleton at the early hour of 
six o’clock and, being winter time, it was still 
dark. His father rose a£ four o’clock and his 


Into a Par Country 77 

mother shortly afterwards, while David appeared 
just as the breakfast was placed on the table. 

The meal was eaten in silence, but the old man 
insisted that, on that morning, David should have 
a double portion. 

The meal being ended, he said, “Janet, give me 
the Book/’ which reverently laying down open 
before him, upon the table, he said, “let us wor- 
ship God,” and then he read these words : 

“My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not. 

“If they say, come with us, let us lay wait for blood, 
let us lurk privily for the innocent without cause; 

“My son, walk not thou in the way with them; refrain 
thy foot from their path: 

“For their feet run to evil, and make haste to shed 
blood.” 

Closing the Book, he said, “Let us pray.” 

“Then kneeling down to Heaven’s Eternal King, 

The saint, the father, and the husband prays ; 

Hope springs exulting on triumphant wing, 

That thus they all shall meet in future days.” 1 

The words of that prayer which was offered 
upon that morning by old David Bruce are no 
longer known on earth, but they are all recorded 
in Heaven. Rising from their knees, young David 
embraced his mother, who simply said, “My dear 

1 “Cottar’s Saturday Night,” Robert Burns. 


78 The World, the Church and the Devil 

boy!” and the father, his face calm yet glowing 
with a radiance that was not of earth, took his 
boy’s hand firmly within his own and said, “My 
boy, never take the blood — never — take — the — 
blood.” 


CHAPTER VII 


ALBUK, NEW MEXICO 

i 

JUAN ALMANZOR 

A LTHOUGH but nineteen years of age, David 
*-Bruce was a giant in stature, being somewhat 
over six feet in height, and proportionately broad. 
After six months had slipped by, the muscles 
of his long arms had also developed and he was 
regarded as the strongest man in the town. 

As a boy at home, his favorite sport had been 
gunning, and many a snipe and woodcock had 
dropped at the flash of his unerring fire. 

His skill and proficiency was now as great with 
his large Colt’s revolver. Easy-going and good- 
natured as he was by natural disposition, yet all 
things considered, he was scarcely a man to be 
trifled with, and this fact was discovered in Albuk 
before many months had passed. 

Taking his meals in the dining room of the one 
and only boarding house of which the town 


79 


80 The World , the Church and the Devil 

boasted, he had fitted up a room for himself above 
the office in the warehouse. 

He was still devoted to music, and that was a 
day long to be remembered by him on which the 
express delivery brought to his room a beautiful 
harp, which he had ordered from Chicago, and 
many a night, in his room above the office, did he 
devote himself to his favorite pastime. It so hap- 
pened that a Spaniard, who had for years been 
the foremost musician in Madrid and whose exe- 
cution on the harp had frequently delighted Roy- 
alty itself, had drifted to Albuk in the days of his 
decline and adversity. This man, who in his 
prime had been a Prince of Harpists, had failed 
to learn that “it is not for Princes to drink wine, 
nor for Princes strong drink,” and drink had 
proved his undoing. 

This old broken-down musician passed many 
an evening in the chamber above the office and 
under his instruction, united to David's enthusi- 
asm and patience, it transpired that the spirit 
which dwelt within the harp, at once so subtle and 
sublime, yielded to David's mastership. 

One night, as he concluded playing over a 
theme, the old musician clapped his hands and 
bounding to his feet, cried out, “Fuega de dios — 
Grande — Grande.” 


Albuk, New Mexico 


81 


ii 

THE THIEVES 

Towards the end of the year after a most 
laborious day, David had flung himself down 
upon his bed, overcome with fatigue. He had 
not undressed, only intending to rest awhile be- 
fore finally retiring. He had, however, fallen 
sound asleep and about two o’clock in the morn- 
ing he awakened with a start. He had dreamed 
that the town was in the throes of an earthquake, 
and that the building in which he was sleeping 
had been rudely shaken. Sitting up in his bed 
and rubbing his eyes, he had almost concluded that 
this was only a bad dream, when, suddenly, he 
heard below him in the wareroom a grinding 
noise, as of a heavy truck being rolled across the 
floor. Becoming wider and wider awake and lis- 
tening intently, he was soon assured that it was 
even so, and making his way stealthily to the head 
of the stairs, he overheard men conversing in sub- 
dued tones. Taking his revolver out of his poc- 
ket, he cautiously descended the stairs, and he 
soon discovered that the large back door of the 
warehouse had been forced wide open. Backed 


8 2 The World, the Church and the Devil 

up close to it was a wagon, to which a team of 
mules was attached. Concealing himself in the 
darkness, inside the door, he awaited further de- 
velopments, and he had not waited long when two 
men, pushing a truck heavily loaded, approached 
the open door. Biding his time, he delayed until 
they had begun to move the stuff from the truck 
to the wagon and, just as they were lifting be- 
tween them a heavy box of goods, he crept stealth- 
ily up behind the man whose back was turned to 
him and with one swinging blow of his fist 
knocked him senseless to the floor — then quick as 
a flash, covering the other man with his revolver, 
whose gleaming barrel could be seen in the moon- 
light, he commanded, “Hands up.” The bandit, 
uttering a blasphemous oath, surrendered. He 
proved to be none other than his uncle’s former 
shipping clerk, Dick Rifler, who had become the 
daring leader of a band of hold-up men. Order- 
ing him to lift his still unconscious mate into the 
wagon, and keeping him covered with his re- 
volver, he compelled him to drive to the lockup, 
where these two burglars were lodged for the 
night. He had not observed as he left the jail that 
a man who had been watching the whole proceed- 
ings was standing on the opposite side of the 
street in the shadow of buildings. Quickly return- 


Albuk, New Mexico 83 

ing to the warehouse, he closed and made fast the 
door. Thereupon retiring to his bed, he soon fell 
sound asleep and in the morning wakened up 
quite unconscious of the fact that confederates of 
the thieves, who had been lurking with their 
horses on the outskirts of the town, had, during 
the early hours of the morning, effected a jail 
delivery and the whole band of bad-men had 
taken to the hills. 


hi 

DICK RIFLER 

The name of Dick Rider and his gang was 
the terror of those travelers whose business 
compelled them to journey by stage across the 
Ozark Mountains, and many a more adventurous 
but less experienced traveler who had ventured 
to cross these hills alone on horseback had dis- 
appeared, never to be heard of again. 

People in the town of Albuk itself for the most 
part lived in constant terror of their lives. The 
town marshal, a brave and fearless man, Bob 
Porter by name, who had gone out on horseback 
to reconnoiter, had not returned at night and the 
following morning his horse, frightfully jaded, 


84 The World, the Church and the Devil 

was found standing by the stable door, the saddle 
and bridle missing. 

This roused the town and a vigilance commit- 
tee was immeditaely organized, of which David 
Bruce was appointed Captain. 

These men, dividing up into parties of five, 
scoured the country, and at length, after a search 
of many hours, they discovered the body of the 
town marshal lying upon its back, by the side of 
a creek, with a gaping wound from a rifle bullet 
in his forehead. He had been foully murdered 
and robbed, as he had ridden along the narrow 
bridle path which wound its way between the 
creek and a precipitous mountain that crowded 
down on to its bank. 

At a little distance from where the body rested, 
lying upon the bridle path which led to the hills, 
was picked up an empty envelope bearing the post 
mark of Mexico City and addressed to Dick 
Rifler. 

The remains of Bob Porter were that day 
brought back to the town of Albuk and the fol- 
lowing morning, before daybreak, the body 
of this hero, who in the discharge of his duty had 
not counted his life dear unto death, was lowered 
into a grave which had been hastily dug in the 
sand, and William Main, taking from his pocket 


Albukj New Mexico 


85 


a white card, slowly read the words : 

“In domo Patris mei habitationes multae sunt.” 

In silence the grave was filled and as the last 
shovelful of sand was heaped upon it, the sun 
streaming through the mountains flooded the 
mound with gold, like a benediction from 
Heaven. 

For many months after the killing of Bob 1 Por- 
ter nothing was heard of Dick Rifler or his band. 

No traces of them had been discovered in the 
hills by the men of the “Vigilance Committee,” 
and the town resumed its usual routine. The 
stage that traveled between Albuk and the Mexi- 
can border came and went unmolested. The 
name of Dick Rifler was scarcely ever mentioned, 
save as some stranger from the East had occa- 
sionally made inquiries about him. 

A year and more had passed by when one eve- 
ning a strange woman, mounted upon a splendid 
Kentucky horse, rode leisurely towards the town 
and dismounted at a large house on the outskirts 
which bore a wide if not a virtuous reputation. 

The following morning, as David Bruce un- 
locked the office door, his eye caught sight of a 
small piece of brown paper carefully folded, 
which had been thrust underneath it during the 
night. 


86 The World, the Church and the Devil 


Taking it up in his hand and unfolding it, 
he read these words : 

“ To David Bruce. 

“The dark woman who came here yesterday has gone. 
She was drinking with two strange men in the room next 
to mine last night. They all got pretty drunk and noisy, 
and overhearing your name mentioned, I put my ear to a 
knothole in the board partition. I could not hear all they 
said, but my ear caught these words: ‘the Vigilants — 

Bruce — next week — death Your life is in danger. 

That woman is Dick Rider’s special friend. Be on your 
guard — burn this. 

“H. B.” 

Placing this torn scrap of brown paper upon 
the top of the stove, he touched a match to it and 
stood watching while it slowly turned to ashes. 

Then taking from his hip pocket an ugly-look- 
ing revolver, he examined it carefully, and step- 
ping out into the yard, which was still deserted, 
he threw a silver dollar up in the air. His arm 
made a quick swing in its direction and a shot 
rang out — then walking over to where the coin 
had fallen, he bent over and picked it up. There 
was a hole bored through its center. “That shot 
cost me a dollar,” he muttered to himself, and 
then he added, “I guess it’s worth it.” 


Albuk, Nezv Mexico 


8 7 


IV 

THE COMBAT 

About a week later, as David Bruce was re- 
turning to the office from the lumber yard, 
just as he turned the corner of Main Street, he 
saw Dick Rifler striding towards him. In a mo- 
ment their eyes met and, with an oath, Dick 
yelled out, “I’ve got you at last,” and immediately 
his gun spit fire. In his excitement, however, 
the bullet missed its mark, and before he could 
fire a second time his gun had fallen from his 
hand to the ground. 

David Bruce had been too quick for him, and 
with one swing of his arm had shot the gun 
from Rider’s hand. He might as easily have 
bored a hole through the villian’s heart, but some- 
thing checked him — he had seemed in that awful 
moment to hear the echo of a voice, as the voice 
of a God, saying, “Never take the blood,” “Never 
take the blood.” “Hands up,” ordered Bruce as, 
covering Rifler with his gun, he rushed upon 
him. 

“That’s right, that’s right,” roared Rifler, now 
utterly at his mercy, “shoot me down like a dog.” 


88 The World, the Church and the Devil 

“Back away,” commanded Bruce firmly, and 
then kicking the gun, which dropped from Rifler’s 
hand, aside, he threw his own gun upon the 
ground beside it, while Dick Rifler eyed him with 
amazement. 

“Now then,” said Bruce calmly, “I’ll not shoot 
you, but I’ll thrash you till you wish you had 
never seen the town of Albuk or heard the name 
of Bruce.” As he uttered these words, some 
citizens, attracted by the sound of the shooting, 
came breathlessly rushing up to where they stood. 

“Keep back,” roared Bruce; “this fight is be- 
tween us two — man against man.” 

The combat began. It was the battle of giants. 
They struck and clinched and pounded and 
clinched again and coming down almost to the 
ground, Rifler, whose strength was yielding, sud- 
denly drove his boot fiercely against Bruce’s side, 
dealing him a terrific kick under the right arm. 
Bruce turned pale for a moment and his black 
eyes burned like coals of fire. With one last 
swing of his powerful arm, he knocked Rifler 
senseless to the ground. 

The end came none too soon for Bruce, for in 
less than five minutes he too fell down upon the 
sand, holding his right side with his left arm and 
moaning in agony. 


Albuk, 'New Mexico 


89 


He was hurriedly carried to his room and 
there laid upon the bed, where for weeks he 
remained hovering between life and death, under 
the care of Doctor Duval. 

At times he became unconscious and in his rav- 
ing was heard by the old Spaniard who tenderly 
nursed him, to exclaim, “The blood — the blood — 
Never take the blood!” 

“It was a battle of giants,” said Tom Bart- 
lett to Ned James, as they stood at the saloon 
bar that night. “The only thing in all my life I 
ever saw to compare with it was when the cyclone 
raced down the valley of the Rio Grande and 
bombarded Mount La Yoja.” 

“That was a terrific storm, sure,” answered 
Ned. “The worst we ever saw in the Rio Grande, 
but it cleared the air.” 

In the course of the weeks, David Bruce re- 
covered sufficiently to resume his duties in the 
office, but he sometimes was heard to complain 
of a dull pain in his side. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF 
WILLIAM MAIN 

TT 7TLLIAM MAIN, whose heart had been in 
** a weak condition for some time, received a 
severe shock when word was brought to him of 
the awful combat and of the subsequent pre- 
carious condition of his nephew, whom he had 
learned to love as his own soul. 

While no one knew better than he that the life 
of David Bruce was characterized by certain 
lapses from the paths of virtue, which he could 
not approve, yet he recognized that these periodic 
debauches were the results of an excess of vitality 
rather than the product of an essentially corrupted 
nature. 

Less than a month after the return of David 
Bruce to the duties of the office, which office Wil- 
liam Main was in the habit of visiting every 
morning at ten o’clock, it transpired that on a 
certain morning the hands of the office clock 
90 


The Last Will of William Main 91 

pointed to eleven and as yet William Main had 
not made his usual appearance. 

Engrossed in his duties, David Bruce had not 
noticed that the forenoon had so far advanced 
until when reading a business letter which dealt 
with matters requiring his uncle’s personal atten- 
tion, he observed that he had not yet come in. 

Glancing at the clock, he laid this letter down 
upon the desk, saying to himself, ‘Eleven o’clock ! 
and uncle has not come down yet; strange; I 
wonder what can be keeping him.” 

This was surely an unusual circumstance, for 
his uncle’s habits, as all the town knew, were as 
regular as the clock. So, taking his hat, he hur- 
riedly made his way towards that block of build- 
ings in which his uncle had his room, and ascend- 
ing the stairs, he discovered that the door lead- 
ing to his uncle’s room had not been opened that 
morning. His boots, which had been shined, were 
still upon the floor of the hall beside the door, 
where they had been placed by the Mexican serv- 
ant, who attended to the rooms in the building. 

David knocked at the door, but receiving no 
answer, tried the handle. The door was locked. 
Just then the Mexican servant put in his appear- 
ance and, on being questioned, replied that, “he 
had not seen Mr. Main since the night before.” 


9 2 The World , the Church and the Devil 


Breaking in the door, they saw the body of Wil- 
liam Main lying peacefully, as if asleep, upon the 
bed. William Main was dead. 

Inside his pocketbook was found a sealed let- 
ter, bearing on its cover the name of David Bruce. 
It was the last will and testament of William 
Main, and it read as follows: 

“I, William Main, of Albuk, in the State of New 
Mexico, being of sound mind and memory, do hereby 
revoke any and all former wills by me made, and do 
make, publish and declare this to be my last Will and 
Testament as follows: 

“I direct that all my just debts and funeral expenses be 
paid. 

“I direct that the sum of two thousand dollars ($2,000) 
be paid to The Reverend P. J. O’Connor, S.J., to be 
used by him in whatsoever way he may deem best in 
support of his mission work among the Pueblo Indians. 

“I direct that the sum of ten thousand dollars ($10,000) 
be paid to my dear sister, Mrs. David Bruce, Sr., of 
Mapleton, Ontario, Canada. 

“I direct that a memorial window be placed in the 
Presbyterian Church of Melbourne, Canada, in memory 
of my dear mother. The said window of the value of 
five thousand dollars ($5,000), to be representative of 
the cross, with the inscription in Latin ‘In domo Patris 
mei habitationes multae sunt.’ 

“I give, devise and bequeath unto my dear nephew, 
David Bruce, all the residue of my estate, both real, 
personal and mixed, of every kind and wheresoever situ- 
ated, whether now in my possession, or hereafter to be 
acquired. 


The Last Will of William Main 93 

“I hereby nominate and appoint my said nephew, David 
Bruce, Executor of this, my last Will and Testament, and 
request that he be required to give no other security as 
said Executor than his own personal bond. 

“I hereby give to my Executor full power and authority 
to sell, at public or private sale, and to convey any of 
my real and personal property as he may see fit, and 
manage and dispose of my said estate the same as I 
could if living. 

“In witness whereof, I have hereunto set my hand 
and seal this fifth day of July, A. D. 18 — . 

“William Main. [Seal.] 

“Signed, sealed, published and declared by the said Wil- 
liam Main, on the fifth day of July, A. D. 18 — , as and for 
his last Will and Testament, in the presence of the under- 
signed, who at his request and in his presence, and in the 
presence of each other, have hereunto subscribed our name 
as witnesses thereto. 

“Andrew A. Charles. 

“John Q. Bryson. 

“William M. Sumner.” 


CHAPTER IX 


FATE SHIFTS THE SCENES 


i 


THREE HORSEMEN 


YEAR had now elapsed since the sudden 



death of William Main. His nephew was 
continuing the business, which he had steadily in- 
creased. No word had been heard of Dick Rifler 
since the day of the combat. 

He, too, had been carried unconscious into a 
house nearby, but in the morning he was no- 
where to be found. 

Whenever his case was discussed by the men 
who gathered in the saloon or upon the street 
corner, the prevailing opinion was expressed that 
he must surely be dead. Bruce had dealt him 
such a terrific blow on the side of his face. 

While Bruce himself seemed always disin- 
clined to discuss the matter, those who were 
most intimate with him inferred that he certainly 


94 


Fate Shifts the Scenes 95 

expected to meet Rifler again some day, for it 
was observed that he was always armed. 

But the name of Dick Rifler was being grad- 
ually forgotten as the months slipped by and the 
people of the town of Albuk, freed from the 
fear of these “bad men,” settled back again into 
their regular routine. 

The most extensive business in that town 
was that which had now been established for 
many years by the late William Main, and con- 
sisted of a large lumber yard and a general 
supply store. 

People to the number of some twelve to fifteen 
hundred, who composed the population of Al- 
buk, for the most part lived in small white painted 
wooden houses, which had been built near to 
each other for mutual convenience and protec- 
tion. Albuk, which was situated on the right 
bank of the Rio Grande, which river at that 
point almost encircled it, when seen from the 
summit of the neighboring hills, looked like a 
pearl in a setting of gold and platinum. So it 
appeared at least to those of the town’s people 
who had seen it from that point of vantage, and 
in whose eyes pride and affection had united to 
cast a spell of enchantment over its buildings. 

Not so, however, did it appear one dry, hot, 


9 6 The World , £/?£ Church and the Devil 


blistering day to three horsemen who looked 
down upon it with dark eyes. 

One of them, minutely examining it through a 
field glass, said : “The general supply store must 
be pretty well stocked. I see a number of loaded 
wagons moving up to it. They are getting in 
their fall stock, all right.” Then, turning his 
glass upon the lumber yard, he added, “There’s 
a gang of men piling lumber in the yard — all 
working like niggers, too.” 

“What are they doing?” asked the man who 
was seated on the horse at his side. 

“Building a bonfire, I suppose,” he replied, 
with a wicked leer in his eye. “They have no 
town lights installed yet and Bruce is reported 
to have said that, ‘The streets are so dark at 
night that they’re scarcely safe for the women 
folks.’ ” 

“They’ll have light enough to-night,” growled 
the third man, who had an ugly scar on the side 
of his face. Then turning the heads of their 
horses, they vanished behind the hills. 


Fate Shifts the Scenes 


97 


ii 

THE HOLOCAUST 

The sun, which had been pouring down tor- 
rid waves of heat throughout the day, like 
fiery breaths from an oven, at length had dis- 
appeared behind the lofty mountains to the west- 
ward, and as the evening advanced, a grateful 
breeze came floating down through the Eastern 
Hills, which increased in strength and violence 
as the hour of midnight drew near, driving the 
sand in clouds across the plains. 

About two o’clock in the morning, when not a 
star was visible in the sky, Doctor Duval, who 
the day before had been summoned to a case 
some thirty miles to the eastward, was walking 
his tired horse across the bridge which spanned 
the Rio Grande near the town, suddenly heard 
in the distance the sharp ring of horses’ hoofs 
and he was almost immediately run down by 
three horsemen who swept past him at full gal- 
lop, making for the hills. 

Reining in his frightened horse and recovering 
from his surprise, he raised his eyes toward the 
town and, to his horror, he saw fire breaking 


98 The World, the Church and the Devil 

out in several quarters of the lumber yard and 
almost immediately he beheld the general supply 
store enveloped in flames. Driving the spurs 
into his horse’s flanks, he raced wildly through 
the streets, shouting at the top of his voice, “Fire ! 
—Fire!!— Fire!!!” 

The men and women were already out in the 
street, running madly up and down. The sight of 
the fire, breaking out so suddenly, in so many 
different quarters, seemed to have completely 
deprived them of their senses, and the Doctor, 
taking in the whole situation, rode backward and 
forward, commanding the women and children to 
make for the river, which was the only place of 
safety. The destruction of the town was com- 
plete; not a building escaped. That night the 
flame had scornfully puffed out its lips at the 
houses and stores and the lumber yard of Albuk 
and in the morning nothing remained to tell the 
tale but crumbling ruins. 

The sun which the night before had smiled 
upon a prosperous town of comfortable homes 
rose in the morning over a wilderness of ashes. 

David Bruce felt that he knew whose hand 
had kindled the devastating holocaust, and as he 
gazed upon the ruins of his business and the 
destruction of his hopes he muttered, “And to 


99 


Fate Shifts the Scenes 

think that I might have taken his blood — and I 

would have done so but — for ” and then he 

stopped himself and for a moment seemed like 
a man, as it were, in a dream. 

hi 

CHICAGO 

The books of the General Supply Store and 
Lumber Yard, which, at the close of each day’s 
operations, were always securely locked away, 
in a strong iron safe, alone were left to bear 
mute testimony to the success which, for years, 
had attended the commercial undertakings of 
the late William Main and his nephew David 
Bruce. 

These books Bruce removed as soon as pos- 
sible to a place of safety, having, with the help 
of some Indians who at daybreak had camped 
upon the opposite side of the river, erected a 
small rough shack. 

In this building he temporarily established his 
office and heroically set to work at the depress- 
ing task of ascertaining the state of his finances. 
After collecting the various accounts which were 
due him for lumber and other supplies, all of 


ioo The World , the Church and the Devil 

which money he deposited in the bank at Santa 
Fe, he discovered that his total assets amounted 
to something less than sixteen thousand dollars 
($16,000), against which there were liabilities 
of almost fifteen thousand dollars ($15,000). 
Having promptly paid his debts, he found him- 
self with less than one thousand dollars ($1,000) 
to the good, but with his integrity unimpeached 
and his hope still high he courageously applied 
himself to the difficult task of rehabilitating his 
business. 

The rough shack, in which he was compelled, 
for the present, to work and sleep, afforded him 
but scant protection from the weather and what 
with exposure, anxiety and badly prepared food, 
not many weeks had elapsed until one morning 
he found himself too sick to rise. 

Doctor Duval, who throughout these terrible 
weeks succeeding the fire had proved himself not 
only a physician but a good Samaritan, was sum- 
moned and, under his care, in the course of a few 
days Bruce had sufficiently recovered to be able 
to attend to some of his duties. 

The pain in his breast, however, still gripped 
him severely at times, and the Doctor told him 
to come up to his office for a thorough examina- 
tion. 


Fate Shifts the Scenes ioi 

“Now, where is that pain, Bruce?” asked the 
Doctor, passing his skilful fingers over the right 
breast, just below the axillary region, but before 
Bruce had time to reply, he continued, “About 
here, isn’t it?” 

“Yes,” said Bruce, as a sudden twinge of pain 
shot through his side. 

To the Doctor’s mind, the case was clear. 

“It was here that Dick Rider kicked you, 
wasn’t it?” asked the Doctor. 

“Somewhere there,” answered Bruce. 

“You’re thinking of going to Chicago, I hear,” 
said the Doctor. 

“Probably I shall,” replied Bruce. “The trav- 
eler for Richard Bell & Co. was here last week 
and he told me that he was satisfied if I could 
personally interview Mr. Bell and explain all the 
circumstances, suitable arrangements might be 
made to resume the business of the General Sup- 
ply Store.” 

“Richard Bell is one of the greatest merchants 
in the Middle West and one of the shrewdest men 
in the commercial world,” exclaimed the Doctor. 

“He is as keen as a razor and has absolute con- 
fidence in his own estimate of men. I don’t think 
he would turn a man like you down, more espe- 
cially when he has done satisfactory business for 


102 The World , the Church and the Devil 


so many years with yourself and late uncle. I 
would certainly advise you to go up to Chicago 
and see him and, by the way, if that side of yours 
should trouble you while there, you had better 
consult my former professor, Doctor Walker; 
he’s one of the greatest surgeons in America. 
I’ll give you my card of introduction.” 

David Bruce, having decided to go to Chicago, 
left Albuk a week later for Santa Fe, where he 
took the train for Chicago. 

Meanwhile, Doctor Duval had mailed the fol- 
lowing letter to Doctor Walker : 

“Albuk, N. M., September 19th, 18 — . 
“Professor Walker , M.D., Ross Hospital, Chicago, 111. 
“My dear Professor Walker: 

“A young man in our town, David Bruce by name, has 
been under my treatment for some time, and in my opinion 
is suffering from a tumor of more or less malignant type, 
which has developed in his right breast, under the axillary 
region. He is going to Chicago on business, and I have 
advised him to consult you, should he require medical 
attention while there. My card will serve as his intro- 
duction and identification. 

“Yours truly, 

“P. J. Duval.” 

A few days after this letter had been des- 
patched, Bruce himself arrived in Chicago. Mile 
after mile, the gigantic engines of the Santa Fe, 


Fate Shifts the Scenes 103 

like horses of war, tireless in their strength, had 
pounded the force of their might upon the end- 
less rails. 

Swifter and swifter, the heavy express from 
the south had careered across the prairies, and 
as at length it drew near to that immense city 
of the plains, piercing like an arrow the outlying 
suburbs and driving straight to its heart, a strange 
and unaccustomed feeling of excitement, shot 
through with loneliness, settled down upon his 
heart. 

Issuing from the station on Polk Street and 
standing for a moment looking north on Dear- 
born Street, it seemed to him as though the seven- 
fold demon of that restless giant had already 
taken possession of his soul. Its pride and alert- 
ness and force and squalor and wealth and bru- 
tality and glory all strangely woven together like 
some magic tapestry seemed to clothe him with 
its ponderous fold. 

Here men had scaled the dizzy heights of am- 
bition and here, too, others had sunk to the low- 
est depths of despair. Ambition and despair — 
twin torturers of the human soul — which of 
these did this mighty city hold in her hand for 
him? 

He had come to see Richard Bell and it seemed 


104 The World , the Church and the Devil 

to him as though his entire future was dependent 
upon that one man. 

“To-morrow I will see him, ,, he said to him- 
self, as he drove to his hotel, but like many others 
who hafcl voluntarily cast themselves into this 
vast maelstrom, he little knew what awaited him 
upon the morrow. 

That night the spell of the city was upon him 
and for hours he traversed its streets and mar- 
veled at its greatness. The dazzling lights, the 
gilded music halls, from which the sound of 
music pealed forth to be drowned in the discord- 
ant din of the streets. The splendor of the equip- 
ages with their complement of laughing faces 
and rich gowns and brilliant jewels, as up and 
up the asphalted boulevard one carriage after an- 
other raced onward to the opera. 

He hastened to the open door of a vast audi- 
torium, and as the crowds were passing in he 
heard the strains of a wondrous orchestra and his 
fingers twitched involuntarily, in rhythm, as 
though he too was striking music from a harp. 
When the doors had closed he wandered on and 
on through the streets, saying to himself, “This 
is life! This is life! I never saw anything like 
this.” 

At last, when the hour was late, he returned 


Fate Shifts the Scenes 105 

to his rooms in the hotel and all night long as he 
tossed restlessly in his sleep, he heard the city 
throb, unresting in its energy, tremendous in its 
force. Towards morning he fell into a troubled 
sleep and dreamed that the forces of the city 
about him had become a mighty juggernaut — 
rushing on and on — crushing all before it and 
beneath it, unpitying — relentless — cruel. 

Suddenly awakened, he heard the shrill voices 
of the newsboys calling, “Murder.” “Extra 
papers.” “Extra papers.” “All about the murder 
on Madison Street.” And as this blood-curdling 
cry was repeated again and again he murmured 
to himself, “Life, this is not life — this is death!” 

Lying down again, he fell into a fevered sleep, 
from which he was awakened by a sharp pain 
in his breast. The old pain had returned with 
greater violence than ever before. For the first 
time, the thought occurred to him that this was 
something serious. 

Ringing for the bell-boy, he asked for the 
house physician, who, after a hasty examination, 
said, “Your case is one that calls for a surgeon 
immediately.” 

“But, Doctor!” exclaimed Bruce, “I had an 
appointment with Richard Bell this morning — a 
most important appointment.” 


106 The World , the Church and the Devil 

“Doctor Walker can do a man in your condi- 
tion more good,” laconically answered the Doc- 
tor, as he hurried him off in the ambulance to 
Ross Hospital. 


CHAPTER X 


MUSIC, THE UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE 

i 

GABRIEL NORMANDIN 

VT'OU’VE got de hard times, mon frien’,” said 
Gabriel Normandin, who was sitting propped 
up upon the next bed to that on which Bruce was 
lying, as he cast a sympathetic glance upon the 
pale, wan face, which still bore all the marks of 
intense suffering. 

“Not so bad as last week, when I came in 
here. The operation was successful, but I guess 
this sickness has busted my business, all right. 
The Doctor told me yesterday that Fd have to go 
easy for a year or so and I don’t know what I’ll 
do now. Everything seems to have gone against 
me,” he added wearily. 

“Ah yes,” answered Gabriel, “plen-tee bad 
luck, plen-tee bad luck ; an’ me, I have bad luck, 
too,” he added, with a sigh. 

Bruce turned his head and looked at him. 


107 


io8 The World , the Church and the Devil 

Gabriel Normandin was a French Canadian. 
Born in the Ottawa Valley, his parents had 
moved to La Prairie when he was a child. His 
pious mother had devoted him to the Priesthood, 
and for some years he had attended the Grand 
Seminaire, conducted by the Sulpicians, but he 
had made only indifferent progress with his lit- 
erary and philosophical studies. His mind had 
been set on other things. 

Brother Ignatius, his preceptor, had time and 
again said to him : “Gabriel, you will never make 
a Priest — you’re not applying your mind to 
Philosophy — wake up — you look like a boy in a 
dream.” 

But these gentle reproofs of good Brother Ig- 
natius were all lost upon Gabriel, and one day, 
when the summer term had concluded, he left 
the Seminaire, never to return. 

He went home and lived for some years with 
his parents on their farm beside the Riviere La 
Prairie. 

At the Seminaire, however, he had manifested 
not a little aptitude with the violin, and during 
the long, cold winter nights he used to sit for 
hours beside the square box stove in the kitchen 
of his father’s home drawing forth from its 
strings the heroic and stirring melodies of old 


Music , the Universal Language 109 

Normandy. These melodies delighted his fath- 
er’s heart, but one night, as he concluded with 
the plaintive tones of the Ave Maria, his old 
mother said, “Gabriel, mon garqon, you mus’ be 
de Pries’, for sure, — you mus’ go back to de 
Seminaire an’ become de man of God,” at which 
words she made the sign of the Cross upon her 
breast. 

“Je pense que non ” replied Gabriel. “It’s bet- 
ter for me to learn a trade,” and so it transpired 
that the next spring, after the flax had been put 
in the ground, Gabriel left La Prairie for Terre- 
bonne, where he became an apprentice to his 
mother’s brother, Alexis Des Monts, who manu- 
factured plows, harrows, etc., for the Habitant 
farmers, in that vicinity. 

Years passed by, and Gabriel, who had de- 
veloped no little mechanical skill, invented many 
labor-saving devices, which were used in his 
uncle’s shop. Returning home one day in the 
fall, on a brief visit to his parents, who were 
now aged, he found them out in the field, la- 
boriously pulling flax. 

“Yes, it’s slow hard work,” exclaimed his old 
father, “Beaucoup de travailler, beaucoup de 
travailler. If we could have one machine to 
pull it, we could be rich, for we could have fifty 


no The World, the Church and the Devil 

arpents in place of two, but der’s no machine and 
your modder and I mos’ break our back at dis 
job.” 

That winter Gabriel succeeded in inventing a 
flax-puller, which could be attached to any reap- 
ing machine, and with golden dreams of future 
wealth he had traveled to Chicago for the pur- 
pose of selling his invention. 

He had interviewed Mr. Silas Skinner, the 
patent expert, but delay followed delay, week 
after week, he was kept waiting for a decision. 
Meanwhile, his money having become nearly ex- 
hausted, he had paid for his board by playing 
the violin in the orchestra of the Hotel on Wa- 
bash Avenue where he had been staying. 

Coming down with an attack of pneumonia, 
he had been sent to Ross Hospital, and it was 
there that he had become acquainted with David 
Bruce, who was now lying on the bed next to 
his. 

“What do you do ?” said Bruce, the following 
day to Gabriel. 

“Me, I play de violin in de orchestra in de 
Beacon Chop House. Dat’s good place to eat 
an’ I mus’ pay ma board while I stop here.” 

“Have they a harp in that orchestra?” inquired 
Bruce. 


Music , the Universal Language hi 

“O, non,” replied Gabriel. “Jus’ de violin and 
piccalo an’ piano — but me, I was told de boss dat 
he mus’ get one harp.” 

“What did he tell you?” said Bruce. 

“De boss, he’s say dat he can’t fin’ de man for 
play dat music, Best hien difficile — comprend tu?” 

“I used to play the harp,” said Bruce. “Per- 
haps you could get me the job for a while, till I 
get stronger.” 

“Bien, oui,” answered Gabriel. “I’ll bring you 
dere maself avec your harp, when you get 
strong.” 

Six weeks later Bruce and Gabriel sat together 
in the orchestra of the Beacon Chop House, and 
the throngs of people who were assembled there 
observed that there was a new player in the 
band. 

On a Sunday night some time later, as some 
of the guests were hilariously indulging in their 
wine, a mysterious hush suddenly settled down 
upon the company, and like the voice of a white- 
robed angel from Heaven the strains of Handel’s 
Largo filled the room. 

“Listen to that harp,” exclaimed a thick-set 
man, with a pronounced German accent. “He 
is marvelous!” — “What’s his name?” — “He 
ought to be in the Symphony.” 


1 


1 12 The World, the Church and the Devil 

The speaker, Thomas Gerhard, was a famous 
musical conductor. 

That evening as he passed out of the restau- 
rant, stepping up to the platform, he handed his 
card to Bruce, saying, “Come and see me at my 
studio, Arts and Crafts Building.” 

The following week when the patrons of the 
Symphony opened their program, they read these 
words printed upon a separate sheet of paper 
which had been inserted within their pages : 

“the directors of the symphony have 

PLEASURE IN ANNOUNCING THAT THE CELE- 
BRATED SCOTCH ARTIST, DAVID BRUCE, PUPIL OF 
SIGNOR JUAN ALMANZOR, HARPIST TO THE KING 
OF SPAIN, HAS BEEN ENGAGED AS FIRST HARPIST 
OF THE SYMPHONY, AND WILL APPEAR IN SOLO, 
FOR THE FIRST TIME, AT THURSDAY AFTERNOON^ 
CONCERT.” 


II 

“the Messiah” 

Almost a year after the time at which David 
Bruce had joined the Symphony, during which 
period his name and fame as a harpist had been 


Music, the Universal Language 113 

extolled, not only in the drawing rooms of the 
rich and cultured but also among the more criti- 
cal circles of professional musicians, the an- 
nouncement was made that the Mendelssohn 
Choir of two hundred and fifty voices, which, 
under the masterful conductorship of Klein 
Loewe, had won a world-wide reputation, was 
coming West to produce in conjunction with the 
Symphony Handel’s “Messiah,” the grandest or- 
atorio in existence. 

Thousands of people crowded a vast audi- 
torium upon the night of this musical festival. 

The singers were massed upon tiers of rising 
seats, in a semicircle around the back of the 
stage, while below them were ranged the various 
members of the symphony with their instruments. 
Harps, violins, double-basses, ’cellos, oboes, 
French-horns, cornets, trombones, flutes, clari- 
nettes, cymbals, drums, and when Klein Loewe 
mounted the rostrum, a thrill of suppressed ex- 
citement was felt throughout the vast audience, 
for he was a conductor of almost magical power, 
as he was a musician of world-wide renown. 

In appearance, he looked not unlike a monk, 
and his large head was set firmly on his shoul- 
ders. He only lacked the “Habit” to complete the 
resemblance, 


1 14 The World , the Church and the Devil 


With voice and instrument, the whole won- 
drous story of Redemption was vividly portrayed, 
from the first prophecies of the Messiah all the 
way down through his life and death and resur- 
rection, until when the choir, as with one voice — 
and that the voice of a God — poured forth the 
words, “Hallelujah! Hallelujah! For the Lord 
God Omnipotent Reigneth,” the vast assembly 
rose to its feet, and the choir concluded with an 
“Amen,” “which seemed to spread its vibrations 
backward throughout all ages and forward into 
all time, beating its sounds against the skies, to 
be echoed back again to earth, and finally gather- 
ing itself up as with the force and majesty of a 
mighty tidal wave,” 1 rolled forward conquering 
and to conquer throughout an endless eternity. 

Bruce sat beside his harp as one in a trance. 
His soul burned with excitement and his fingers 
nervously struck the harp strings. His whole 
being was thrilled with the grandeur of the music, 
but his soul, like the souls of many others who 
heard the Oratorio that night, was untouched by 
its religious message. 

Sometimes it seemed to him as though the sails 
of a ship, “rolling in a tempestuous sea, were 

1 Expression used by John Cumming, “Ex. Hall Lecture.” 
James Nisbet & Co., London. 


Music , the Universal Language 115 

raising wild sopranos to the skies ” ; 1 again, he 
seemed to be far away in the depths of a vast pine 
forest, whose branches like unto mighty harp 
chords, smitten by the storm, sent forth clear 
notes which echoed like bells of joy. He seemed 
to see waves of the sea transformed into u white- 
robed choristers” 1 which answered back the thun- 
dered bass of the clouds, when the words pealed 
forth with trumpet tones, “For unto us a child is 
born and his name shall be called Wonderful, 
Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father and 
Prince of Peace” ; and then once again the 
“drums sounded like avalanches, hurled down 
from mountain heights ,” 1 as the deep bass 
with scorn cried out the challenge, “Why do the 
nations so furiously rage together?” 

Music was his passion. It bound him as in 
chains of steel — it gripped his soul — it mastered 
him — it was his God, and as he sat in the midst 
of this great choir and orchestra, it seemed to 
him as though all nature was vocal, restless, im- 
patient, eager, tremulous, insistent, demanding 
to be heard, to intoxicate, to control the world 
with its minstrelsy of praise. 


1 Expressions used in “Ex. Hall Lecture,” by John (hum- 
ming. Janies Nisbet & Co., London. 


n6 The World , the Church and the Devil 

The call of the blood of generations of. an- 
cestors who had dwelt far North, among the lofty 
crags and mountains of Scotland, summoned him 
and his enwrapt spirit panted for the free air 
of those hills, whose mists and tempests allured 
his very soul. 

A strange mysterious feeling came over him, 
somehow, that night as he struck the last notes 
on his harp; he felt that never again would he 
play in the Symphony, — that he must be off, 
somewhere, far away on a journey — a long, long 
journey; — a journey that led through deep val- 
leys to the hills beyond, where was the land of 
his sires. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE TRAGEDY AND TRIUMPH OF A 
SOUL 


i 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 



HE operation which Doctor Maclaren had 


rushed home to perform on David Bruce 
had taken place none too soon. Shortly after the 
close of the Symphony season, Bruce had ex- 
perienced a violent return of his former malady. 
Utterly discouraged and broken down in health, 
he had made his way home to Mapleton and 
there, in his own father’s house, after the opera- 
tion, the Doctor had told him that there was no 
possible hope of recovery. 

For days after this announcement had been 
made to him, his heart had been filled with feel- 
ings of rebellion against God. He had cursed 
his luck and time and again he had been over- 
heard by his mother saying to himself, “What’s 


n8 The World , the Church and the Devil 


the use of life, anyway! If I had only shot that 
man, if I had taken his blood, which he richly 
deserved, my business would have prospered and 
my life would have been spared. Thus God has 
rewarded me for obeying the parting words of 
my father, ‘Never take the blood,’ ” and grind- 
ing out between his teeth in scorn the words, 
“ ‘Never take the blood, never take the blood.’ — 
God — ” he exclaimed, “don’t speak to me of 
God; there is no God! If there was a God, I’d 
hate him!” 

These awful words his mother had overheard, 
and they pierced her heart as with a sword. 

She had heard her son — the child of her pangs 
and prayers — actually curse his Maker. 

The daily thought, that the time would soon 
come when she should see him no more on earth, 
had filled her heart with sorrow, but now, alas, 
to think that he was going to meet his Maker 
with blasphemy upon his lips, and that his soul 
must be lost eternally in hell. This thought was 
indeed unbearable. Her heart was now com- 
pletely broken, and all night long, as she lay 
in her bed, hot tears of agony drenched her pil- 
low, while she moaned the words, “My son — my 
son — would God, I had died for thee!” 

Early the following morning, old David Bruce 


The Tragedy and Triumph of a Soul 119 

appeared at the door of the minister’s study. 
His face, which was as pale as a ghost, looked 
like the face of a man who had heard the groans 
of the damned. 

“Come in, Mr. Bruce,” said Muir, giving the 
old man a warm shake of the hand. 

“No, A’ll not come in, Maister Muir,” replied 
the old man. “A’ jist cam doon ta tell ye aboot 
David. He’s in an awfu’ state.” 

“Yes,” answered Muir, “Doctor Maclaren has 
informed me that he is suffering great bodily 
pain.” 

“Waur than that, Meenister,” groaned the old 
man, and then with faltering accents, he added, 
“it’s speeritual — it’s speeritual. His mither heard 
him curse his Maker yester’ e’en, an’ the thocht 
that his soul is lost, has nearly killed her; all 
las’ nicht she wept and moaned, ‘My son — my 
son — would God, I had died for thee.’ ” 

“Have you spoken to him yourself, Mr. 
Bruce?” asked Muir. 

“No, A’ hadna tha courage ta speak wi’ him 
aboot thae maitters. Ye’ll hae ta come, yer’sel, 
Maister Muir, an’ tak him in han’, an’ if ye can 
do onything wi’ him ta bring aboot a change o’ 
hert, but it’s a maist awfu’ case an’ A’m thinkin’ 
hees commeetted tha ‘Unpardonable Sin,’ what 


120 The World, the Church and the Devil 

the Scripture ca’s tha ‘Sin against tha Holy 
Ghost/ which hath niver forgiveness, neither in 
this warl’ nor in that which is to come. Before 
he gaed awa’ ta New Mexico, A’ had ma ain 
thochts, when he stayed oot sa’ late at nicht, but 
he aye telt me that he was at tha ‘Stag Club,’ an’ 
then hees uncle wrote that he cud fin’ no faut wi’ 
David save that like most o’ tha young men at 
Albuk, he had his nichts o’ deessipation. A’ niver 
spoke thae words ta hees mither, — it wud hae 
killed her.” 

“I see,” said Muir ; “ ‘the flesh warreth against 
the spirit and the spirit against the flesh,’ but tell 
his mother there is still hope, for ‘while the lamp 
holds on to burn, the greatest sinner may re- 
turn,’ and ‘there is forgiveness with Him, that 
He may be found, and He will abundantly par- 
don.’ ” 

“Oo, aye. A’ ken thae words weel eneuch 
ma’sel,” but he added with solemn tones in his 
voice, “there is a sin unto death, an’ tha sin unto 
death hath niver forgiveness.” 

“There is no unpardonable sin, except the sin 
of refusing that pardon which avails for all sin,” 
replied Muir earnestly; then after a pause, dur- 
ing which the searching eyes of old David had 
been fixed upon him with the eager look of a 


The Tragedy and Triumph of a Soul 12 1 

man who, having been shipwrecked, had at last 
caught sight of a sail in the distance, bearing to- 
wards him, Muir added, “HI come this evening. 
Tell his mother to trust in God.” 

“Then ye’ll no be tellin’ him that A’ cam for 
ye,” said the old man, as he turned to go. 


11 

“not by might nor by power” 

That same evening, and on many succeeding 
evenings, Muir called at the home of David 
Bruce. He had succeeded in becoming intimately 
acquainted with him and winning his regard, yet, 
for days, he had been unable to introduce those 
spiritual matters which were uppermost in his 
thoughts. 

Whenever a turn in the conversation, which 
he had skilfully engineered, seemed to afford an 
opening for a word of spiritual advice, quick as 
a flash Bruce had changed the subject; so that 
all of Muir’s attempts to introduce the subject 
of religion in an apparently casual way had been 
defeated, and this defeat had caused him deep 
heart searching. 


122 The World , the Church and the Devil 

During his college days he had stood at the 
head of his Theological classes. 

On the night of “Convocation, ” he had been 
summoned up to the platform, and there had 
been presented with a traveling fellowship by 
the Venerable Chairman of the College Board. 
Then the Registrar, the Reverend Professor Bar- 
clay, had placed in his hand the Gold Medal, be- 
ing the highest academic distinction which was 
within the power of the Theological Faculty to 
confer, and in making this presentation the 
learned professor had publicly announced to the 
“Convocation” that “the successful winner of 
the Gold Medal, Mr. James Muir, had proved 
himself a Theologian far in advance of his years 
in linguistic ability and critical judgment; that 
his remarkable thesis, which had been written in 
German, under the title of “Das Problem des 
Buches Hiob,” was one of the most erudite and 
striking contributions of the year to the theologi- 
cal literature dealing with the Exilic period. 

This scene and these words recurred to Muir, 
as he returned to his study at Mrs. MacGregor’s. 

“Yes,” he said to himself, “they told me that 
I had succeeded marvelously in my discussion of 
the Problem of the Book of Job, but thus far I 
have miserably failed to solve the problem of 


The Tragedy and Triumph of a Soul 123 

David Bruce.” 

Muir’s heart was agitated and his mind sorely 
distressed when Mrs. MacGregor entered his 
study an hour later. 

“Yer no yersel’, tha nicht, Maister Muir,” she 
said to him in a kindly sympathetic voice. “Yer 
takin’ tha Kirk ow’er serious A’m thinkin’, but ye 
sudna’ fash yersel’. The folk are a’ wi’ ye an’ 
it’ll a’ come richt. Oo, aye, ye needna fear for 
the Kirk, an’ hae ye seen David Bruce tha nicht ? 
He was a guid-hearted laddie, when A’ used to 
hae him i’ ma class i’ tha Sabbath-Skule, an’ he 
aye kent his catechisms, but when he left the 
Skule he gaed wi’ bad company an’ became a per- 
fec’ wastrel. But na smooth words ’ull dae him 
ony guid, ye’ll hae ta convict him o’ sin an’ pint 
him ta tha Cross. Oo, aye, that’s the only way, 
Maister Muir. A’ jist lo’ed the laddie ever syne 
he gaed ta ma class an’ there’s no a nicht but A’ 
pit up a prayer to God for tha salvation o’ his 
soul. Oo aye, Oo aye. Ye’ll hae ta convict him 
o’ sin.” 

“That is the work of God’s Holy Spirit,” said 
Muir. 

“Oo aye, but ye’ll need ta help the Speerit, 
Maister Muir, an’ may God gie ye tha word in 
season,” 


124 The World , the Church and the Devil 


in 

SAINT AUGUSTINE 

“That’s a fine harp you have,” said Muir to 
Bruce, as he cast his eyes over to the corner of 
the room, in which old David Bruce had placed 
his son’s harp, and then added, “How much I 
love the music of the harp, but there’s no one in 
Mapleton who can play it. It’s such a difficult 
instrument to master. I suppose you have not 
touched its chords since you came home.” 

“No,” answered Bruce, “this pain has extended 
down the nerve of my right arm, and I have been 
unable to touch the harp for weeks, but now my 
arm feels better to-night. If you could bring 
it over beside me, perhaps I could sweep its 
strings once more.” 

“I wish so much you would,” said Muir, as he 
rolled the large gilded harp across the polished 
floor. 

Softly at first, then louder and louder, floated 
the rich mellow tones of the harp out through 
the open window of the room. 

“Just listen to that harp,” said Vernera Pem- 
berton to Edith Carpenter, as at that moment 


The Tragedy and Triumph of a Soul 125 

they passed the Bruce residence. “That must be 
Bruce himself. I heard, in New York, that the 
people out West had gone wild over his playing.” 

“I am not surprised at that,” exclaimed Edith 
Carpenter, “if he can play so marvelously when 
he is sick, what must it have been to hear him 
when he was well. Listen; what is he playing, 
anyway ?” 

“Oh, that’s from the ‘Holy City,’ ” replied 
Vernera; “we sang that anthem last Easter in 
the Church of the Minor Prophets, and it made a 
tremendous hit,” and so saying, she trilled over 
the words of Gaul’s anthem. 

“List cherubic host in thousand choirs 
Touch their immortal harps of golden wires 
With those just spirits that wear victorious 
palms 

Singing everlastingly devout and holy psalms.” 

“That’s great,” said Muir, as he rolled the 
harp back again to the corner. “Where did you 
ever learn to play like that?” 

“Oh, I learned it in Albuk, from an old broken- 
down Spanish musician. He was a corker, all 
right. For years he had been professor in the 
Conservatory of Milan, later he was appointed 
harpist to the Royal Court of Spain, but there 


126 The World , the Church and the Devil 

was a mystery in his life. I think he had a 
past. At any rate, I ran up against him at Albuk, 
and the old fellow gave me lessons for several 
years.” 

“Did he ever speak of his experiences at 
Milan?” asked Muir. 

“Not much,” answered Bruce, “but he said 
that the Conservatory of Music in that city was 
established within the walls of an ancient mon- 
astery, and that Milan was the center of music 
in Italy.” 

“A very ancient monastery indeed and a very 
old city,” responded Muir. “Milan has long 
been noted for the excellence of its music. I 
recollect, last spring, hearing marvelous music in 
its great Cathedral. What a checkered history 
is the story of Milan! But throughout all the 
many vicissitudes of the long centuries and the 
rise and fall of temporal powers, the church has 
maintained its supremacy, and has continued to 
diffuse throughout that city a beautiful religious 
atmosphere. 

“It was there, in the fourth century, that the 
famous Bishop Ambrose lived and preached, and 
it was under the spell of his mighty preaching 
that Saint Augustine was converted. A man who 
had once been a frightful libertine, and who had 


The Tragedy and Triumph of a Soul 127 

sunk deep down in the mire of licentiousness, 
indeed he had broken the heart of his saintly 
mother, Monica, but by the grace of God, one 
day coming under the influence of Saint Ambrose, 
he was convicted of his sin and, turning from 
the error of his former ways, received the cleans- 
ing and the forgiveness of God.” 

“I never heard about him,” said Bruce. 

“Then, let me tell you the story of his life; it 
is one of the most thrilling in all the long annals 
of the church. Born in the middle of the fourth 
century, as he was, the story of his life reads 
like the life story of some men living to-day.” 
As Muir uttered these words, Bruce gave him 
a piercing glance. “As a boy, Augustine was full 
of mischievous pranks and he used to rob orch- 
ards out of sheer deviltry, all of which actions 
filled his mother’s heart with anxiety and alarm. 
She was a most Christian woman. Then, when 
he was sixteen years of age, he left school and 
spent a year in idleness at home. Leaving home 
and going to the University of Carthage, he 
plunged into a veritable mud-bath of licentious- 
ness, tarnishing his imagination and his intellect. 
The day he left home his mother had placed her 
Bible in the sack among his clothes, but he never 
opened its covers or read from its pages its holy 


128 The World, the Church and the Devil 

words of warning and admonition. He plunged 
deeper and deeper into vice, and associating him- 
self with men of skeptical notions, he used their 
arguments to silence the voice of his conscience, 
which from time to time accused him of his sin. 
Throughout all these years, his mother had con- 
tinued to pray for him. At last, there occurred a 
series of providential incidents, which were sent 
of Heaven to bring him back, step by step, to his 
mother’s God. He had become proficient in 
Rhetoric, and shortly after the death of his dear- 
est friend, whose words of warning he had treated 
lightly, he left Carthage for Rome to pursue his 
profession in that city, but becoming dissatisfied 
after a time, he had taken his way to Milan, and 
there under the sermons of the great Ambrose, 
which sermons rolled over him with persuasive 
power, he was convicted of his sin, he acknowl- 
edged the error of his past life, and, turning to 
God, with deep penitence, he confessed his sin, 
and was born again into the new life of purity 
and of faith. This man who had descended to 
the lowest depths of vice was converted by the 
Power of God and continued for forty-three 
years to labor in the service of the Church, and 
to-day, after all these centuries, the name of 
Saint Augustine is held in the highest reverence 


The Tragedy and Triumph of a Soul 129 

by all Christians the world over, whether Cath- 
olics or Protestants.” 

For some minutes after Muir had concluded 
the recital of this story, Bruce sat in silence, his 
eyes fixed upon the floor. It was apparent that 
he had been deeply touched by the story of Saint 
Augustine. At length raising his eyes, and look- 
ing Muir straight in the face, he said, with a 
tremor in his voice, “Is that story true; is that 
the real story of Saint Augustine?” Then, after 
Muir had nodded assent, he continued, “That 
might almost have been the story of my own life, 
it is so like it, all save the last. I, too, left home 
after breaking ‘my mother’s heart. I, too, neg- 
lected to read the Bible her hands had placed in 
my trunk. I, too, defiled the temple of God. My 
uncle just the day before his sudden death had 
reproved me of this sin with which my life had 
been stained. I, too, made my way to a large 
city in which I pursued my profession. There, 
I, too, became dissatisfied and in distress of body 
and in utter hopelessness of mind I came home to 
die. My body must soon succumb to the power 
of this loathsome disease,” and then with hot 
tears coursing down his pallid cheeks he sighed, 
“the harvest is past, the summer is ended, and I 
am not saved.” 


130 The World the Church and the Devil 

The shadows of evening were gathering in the 
room in which Muir and Bruce were sitting, the 
twilight shades were deepening into the darkness 
of the night. There they sat together in silence, 
the man who had sinned, and the man of God, 
who had somehow broken through the adaman- 
tine walls and spoken a word in season. 

Then, as old Mrs. Bruce quietly walked past 
the door, she heard Muir’s voice repeating in 
gentle tones the words : 

“If we confess our sins he is faithful and just to for- 
give our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. 

“In that last day, the great day of the feast, Jesus 
stood and cried, saying, if any man thirst let him come 
unto me and drink and whosoever cometh unto me, him I 
will in no wise cast out.” 

Then followed the parable of the Prodigal 
Son, and as Muir began the words, “I will arise 
and go unto my Father,” Janet Bruce, David’s 
mother, heard two voices instead of one repeat- 
ing the words, and, rushing out to the other room 
in which her husband was sitting, exclaimed : 
'Thank God! This my son was dead and is 
alive again; he was lost and is found.’” 

That night, after Muir had knelt down beside 
Bruce’s chair and prayed words of confession 
ydth thanksgiving and faith, he rose, and, taking 


The Tragedy and Triumph of a Soul 13 1 

the hand of David Bruce firmly in his own, he 
said : “Now unto Him Who is able to keep you 
from falling and to present you faultless before 
the presence of His glory with exceeding joy. 
To the only wise God our Savior be glory and 
majesty, dominion and power both now and for- 
ever,” and David Bruce, raising himself up in 
the strength of a new-found faith, answered, 
“Amen.” 


CHAPTER XII 


AMONG THE MEMBERS OF THE KIRK 

i 

TWO OLD SCOTCH CRONIES 

Y ON’S no bad whusky,” said Malcolm Beatson 
to his old-time cronie, Donald MacPherson, 
as, in accordance with their weekly custom, they 
sat together of a Sunday night, indulging in 
their usual confab and dram. 

“There’s no bad whusky, Malcolm,” replied 
Donald, as with a sigh of satisfaction he laid his 
empty glass down upon the table; “no, there’s 
no bad whusky, but there’s some better.” This 
quiet rejoinder brought a smile to Malcolm’s face, 
and with a nod of his head he replied : “It’s jist 
a taste o’ Glenlivet, that young Dugald brocht 
ow’er ta me frae Glasgow, an’ A’ was o’ tha 
opeenion ye’d no find muckle ta complain o’ wi’ 
it. But A’m thinkin’ we’ll a’ hae ta be mendin’ 
oor ways. Not that A’ iver took much stock i’ 
132 


Among the Members of the Kirk 133 


thae total-absteenence bodies ma’sel, but it’s jist 
cornin’ ow’er me that there’s nae disputin’ tha fac’ 
that drink is an awfu’ curse, an’ there’s sae mony 
noo-a-days that’s abusin’ it. It was the cause of 
David Bruce’s doonfa’, puir laddie !” 

“Weel, weel,” answered Donald, “tha young 
folk noo-a-days are no content wi’ jist a moderate 
dram like us, but a’ dinna see for why we a’ sud 
stap takin’ a wee dram, noo an’ then, jist because 
thae young rascals wull get roarin’ fu’.” 

“Tha meenister pit it strong in his sermon tha 
day when he was discoorsin aboot thae drunk- 
ards o’ Ephraim,” answered Malcolm. “As the 
meenister was speakin, A’ thocht A’ cud fairly 
hear their drucken words : 1 ‘Ki tsav la stav — tsav 
la stav — qav la qav — qav la qav — Z’eir sham — 
Z’eir sham.’ ” 

“Oo aye,” said Donald, “the meenister nae doot 
mad plain eneuch tha aifter effects, but he didna 
say onything aboot tha awfu’ drouth.” 

“An’ he was sayin’ that we oucht ta remember 
the power o’ example an’ no be pittin stumblin- 
block i’ the way o’ tha weak,” said Malcolm. 

“A’weel, maybe hee’s richt,” replied Donald. 

‘George Adam Smith’s description of the Drunkards of 
Ephraim, “The Expositor’s Bible.” Funk and Wagnalls, 
New York. 


134 The World , the Church and the Devil 


"It’s no for the likes o’ me to be contradictin tha 
meenister — an’ for a’ we’re takin A’m thinkin we 
micht aboot as weel pit a stap to it.” 

“There’s signs o’ a great awakening in tha 
Kirk,” said Malcolm, “an’ there’s nae doot but 
that the fa’ an’ conveersion o’ David Bruce is 
producin a wide effec’ — but A’ dinna see how tha 
meenister did onything wi’ him. He was aye sae 
dour an’ set in his ways — but there’s nae doot 
he’s a changed man tha noo an’ A’m gled for 
auld David’s sake.” 

“Tha meenister tha day minded me o’ Robert 
Murray McCheyne when years ago in Dundee 
A’ heard him preach,” said Donald. “He was 
sae earnest-like. He seemed ta hae tha unction 
o’ God.” 

That night the bottle of Glenlivet was locked 
away in the press. These weekly confabs con- 
tinued, but there were no more drams. 

ii 

A SOCIAL CLIMBER 

There was a large gathering of the ladies of 
St. Giles at Mrs. MacGregor’s on the occa- 
sion of the organization of the Mission Study 


Among the Members of the Kirk 135 


Class. While the majority of those present were 
sincerely interested in the good cause, there were 
a few who had attended from other motives. In- 
deed, Mrs. Junius P. C. Pemberton had remarked 
to Mrs. Alfred Banbury, on their way to the 
meeting, that Junius had simply no use for mis- 
sions, that he thought the heathen were all right 
as they were, for if they never heard of Chris- 
tianity they could not be condemned for not liv- 
ing according to its precepts, and that she herself 
had always considered that Junius had such good 
business judgment. Mrs. Banbury, the wife of 
an accountant in the office of the Pemberton fac- 
tory, had only recently moved with her husband 
to Mapleton. She was a woman socially very 
ambitious, and had formerly been identified with 
the Congregational Church; but soon after her 
arrival at Mapleton, having discovered that the 
best old families of the city attended St. Giles, 
she had been most regular in her attendance at 
all the ladies’ meetings, and, learning that the 
Gardiners, the Maclarens, the Allans, the St. 
Claires, the Robertsons and others were all in- 
terested in the organization of the new Mission 
Study Class, she saw fit to reply to Mrs. Pember- 
ton that “We really must all rally around Mr. 
Muir; he seems to be such an earnest man!” 


13 6 The World , the Church and the Devil 

Muir opened the meeting with a fervent prayer 
and then briefly addressed the ladies upon the 
subject of the “Modern Missionary Motive,” em- 
phasizing that the question was not what God 
would do with the heathen who had had no chance 
to know the Gospel, but rather what God would 
do with us if we failed to give the Gospel to 
these people. He pointed out that at the present 
time there was need of a vast increase in money 
for the support of foreign mission work. He 
said that the cause of this was due to the fact 
that foreign mission enterprise had now emerged 
from the “Individual Stage” to the “Family 
Stage” and that nowadays in order to retain the 
ground which the church had won among the 
heathen, she was under the necessity of providing 
means by which to care for entire families and 
that should the church fail to rise to this obliga- 
tion the condition of many of these people who 
had been converted from idols would soon be- 
come worse than that of the heathen. 

The meeting was then thrown open for discus- 
sion, and several of the ladies expressed opinions 
favorable to the proposed organization. 

Jean St. Claire gave an account of the great 
meetings held in Edinburgh in connection with 
the Jubilee of Medical Missions. She related that 


Among the Members of the Kirk 13 7 


Dr. Farrar, robed in a rich black gown, had 
preached on that occasion a magnificent mission- 
ary sermon from the text, “I have compassion 
on the multitude,” and she stated that with him 
on the platform was a host of distinguished per- 
sonages, including the Duke of Argyle and Pro- 
fessor Blackie and Doctor James MacGregor, 
Henry Drummond, Mrs. Bird, the famous trav- 
eler in Asia, and other notables. 

Mrs. MacGregor remarked that having for long 
years been intimately acquainted with Miss St. 
Claire’s mother and her grandmother, whose 
presence graced their meeting to-day, she was not 
surprised that she had found time and inclination 
to attend the great Missionary Jubilee while 
abroad in Scotland, and she concluded by moving 
that a Mission Study Class be organized. 

Mrs. Banbury, whose keen eagle eyes had taken 
in the whole situation, immediately rose and said 
that she “had very great pleasure in supporting 
Mrs. MacGregor’s motion, and would with Mrs. 
MacGregor’s gracious consent like to add that the 
motto, ‘Noblesse Oblige,’ be adopted by the new 
organization.” 

After the motion had been carried unanimously 
Mrs. Burns-Evans, a rather giddy society woman 
and a friend of Mrs. Pemberton’s, bending over, 


138 The World , the Church and the Devil 

whispered in her ear: “Who is Mrs. Banbury ?” 
To which Mrs. Pemberton replied, sotto voce, 
“A climber.” At which both these ladies smiled 
knowingly. 

However, the Mission Study Class was 
founded, and it proved a mighty success. Indeed, 
the members had become so impressed with the 
needs of the women in India, of whose condition 
they had learned, that before the year had ended 
the following item appeared in the church paper : 

“The women of St. Giles Church Mission Study Class, 
having undertaken the entire support of a Missionary to 
represent them in India, the Foreign Mission Board has 
appointed Miss Jennie B. Rankine, M.D., as Missionary 
of St. Giles Church, Mapleton, to India. Doctor Rankine 
leaves on Friday for Allahabad. The Foreign Mission 
Board earnestly hopes that many other churches through- 
out Canada will emulate the good example of St. Giles.” 


Ill 

WALTER SCOT'S STORY 

On the corner of Main and Market Streets 
there stood an old-fashioned square stone build- 
ing, which had doggedly held on to its site, not- 
withstanding all the transformation that time had 
brought about in the adjoining premises. 


Among the Members of the Kirk 139 


This low-set two-story stone building seemed 
to have the energy of persistence, and in this it 
might have been regarded as a fitting type of the 
man whose name, printed in heavy square letters, 
appeared on the sign above its wide corner door. 

This building had, however, been compelled to 
yield a little to the onward march of progress, 
which in other quarters of the city had swept all 
before it. It had in years gone by been the fash- 
ionable residence of Major Gordon, but shortly 
after his death the members of his family had 
moved elsewhere. Mapleton had entered upon a 
period of city expansion, and so it happened that 
one day, under the auctioneer’s hammer, this gray 
stone building had become the property of Walter 
Scot. 

He had turned the ground floor into a grocery, 
himself living with his family above the shop, 
and when of more recent years he had removed 
his domicile to a fashionable residence in the up- 
per part of the city, the whole building had been 
consigned to the large and growing trade which 
swept in and out of its doors. And this trade 
had swelled to very large proportions indeed, for 
everybody knew that Walter Scot’s grocery was 
the best and most reliable in the city of Maple- 
ton. Delivery wagons bearing the name of Wal- 


140 The World , the Church and the Devil 

ter Scot were even to be seen on the streets of 
the neighboring towns two days in each week. 

Walter Scot, as his name implied, was a Scotch- 
man. Some sixty years before the present time 
he had been born in Scotland and there were those 
among the town’s people who had said of him 
that, while he walked the streets of Mapleton, he 
lived in Scotland. Be this as it may, as day after 
day he sat behind the desk in the front of his 
store, he was never too busy to exchange a good 
Scotch story with any of his acquaintances. 

It was not unusual, in the evening hour, about 
the time of closing, to see a number of men sit- 
ting around inside Walter Scot’s private office. 
Needless to say, these men, with few exceptions, 
were like himself among the trusted pillars of 
St. Giles. 

It happened one night, when this coterie of men 
were almost splitting their sides with laughter, at 
one of Walter Scot’s famous stories, that the tall 
figure of W. G. Hale was seen to enter the door. 

“Come away in, William,” said Walter, beckon- 
ing him to a chair, for, although some months 
previously W. G. Hale had given up his pew in 
St. Giles, the fact that he was Scotch to the back- 
bone had bound him to Walter’s big heart as with 
bands of iron. 


Among the Members of the Kirk 141 

“You seem to be somewhat uproarious to-night 
for staid Presbyterians,” exclaimed Hale, as he 
glanced in a kindly manner around the circle and 
sat down in the proffered seat. 

“Oh, we’re just laughing at Walter Scot’s 
latest story,” said Gordon Chisholm, who, like 
Walter, himself was a staunch Elder of the Kirk; 
and then, turning to Walter, said: “You better 
repeat that story for Hale’s benefit,” and all the 
men signifying their approval, Walter drew him- 
self up in his chair and began. 

The story is told about the Reverend Norman 
Black of the Parish of Canlachie, proceeded Wal- 
ter, with a serious tone in his voice. For upwards 
of forty years this godly man ministered in the 
word to the good people of that parish, and dur- 
ing these long years he had been called upon, on 
many occasions, to conduct the funeral services 
of different members of his flock who had been 
called beyond. 

On such occasions, it was the custom in Can- 
lachie to take the remains into the Kirk, and, this 
done, the Reverend Norman Black would read 
the Word, conduct the prayers, and then when- 
ever his conscience permitted, pronounce a eulogy 
upon the character of the departed. 

At last the day came when Norman Black him- 


142 The World , the Church and the Devil 


self, rich in service and ripe in years, lay a-dying. 

The Elders of the Kirk gathered around his 
bed and poured forth into his ears their tender 
words of consolation. 

“Ye’ve more of your people in Heaven than on 
earth, Mr. Black,” they had told him. 

“Ye mind when John Sangster died ye told us 
that he had gone to Heaven and ye said the same 
about Janet Gillespie, and Ian Pringle, and many 
others, and it will not be long before ye’ll be 
meeting them all again in Heaven.” To all of 
which good old Norman Black entirely agreed. 
Well, at last he died and he went to Heaven, and 
some time after he had arrived there, an angel 
found him all alone upon the hillside weeping as 
if his heart would break. On enquiry, the angel 
discovered the reason, for Norman Black, after 
making profuse apologies for his tears, had con- 
fided to him that during all the days in which he 
had been in Heaven he had not been able to dis- 
cover any Presbyterians, and that his heart was 
overcome with loneliness, and then he added that 
seeing a great throng of people up around the 
Throne, singing Hallelujah, he had gone up to 
where they were located, for he was sure that the 
Presbyterians would be nearest to the Throne, but 
these people had elbowed him back, and to his 


Among the Members of the Kirk 143 

utter consternation, he had discovered that they 
were all Methodists, and this had surprised him 
all the more, because in Canlachie they had never 
thought that the Lord cared much for the Meth- 
odists at all. Then the angel said to him : “Mr. 
Black, you don’t know how things are arranged 
in Heaven.” 

“May be I don’t, may be I don’t,” answered 
Black. 

“Now look,” continued the angel, “do you see 
these two hills far away yonder in the distance 
with a valley between them? Well, you go away 
down through that valley three days’ journey to 
its farthest point — and there you’ll find all the 
Presbyterians — they’re the farthest from the 
Throne in Heaven, for they’re the only people the 
Lord can trust out of his sight.” 

As Walter pronounced the last words the men 
broke out again into a great burst of laughter, and 
when it had subsided W. G. Hale remarked that 
it was well for Moderator of Presbytery Hender- 
son that he had not told Scot what he had ad- 
mitted to him on the night of the Ordination, 
namely that he really believed the time was com- 
ing when there would be a Union of the Evan- 
gelical Churches. 

“Speaking seriously, Walter, while I cannot 


144 The World , the Church and the Devil 

say that I am in accord with all the doctrines of 
any of the churches, yet it would, to my way of 
thinking, be in the interests of all the churches 
themselves from a business standpoint to get to- 
gether.’ ' 

“In what way?” enquired Walter. 

“It would reduce expenses, concentrate their 
forces and increase their efficiency.” 

“I’m not so sure that any of these objects would 
be attained by an organic union of the churches,” 
replied Walter. 

“In the business world the monopolistic move- 
ments have effected but little saving to the con- 
sumer, while they had been the means of reducing 
hosts of small capitalists to a condition little bet- 
ter than that of pawns whose every movement 
was controlled by money lords, which gentlemen 
amused themselves playing the game and inci- 
dentally piling up enormous fortunes for them- 
selves, and as for promoting greater efficiency 
surely all students of church history must recog- 
nize that the balance of testimony from experi- 
ence indisputably points to contrary conclusion. 

“Christianity would not be as strong as it is 
in England to-day had all the Christians re- 
mained in the Established Church since the time 
of King Henry VIII. Was not the progress of 


Among the Members of the Kirk 145 

the Church in Scotland given a mighty impetus 
by the disruption of ’43 and speaking of the 
Methodists, is it not a fact that it was only by 
the exodus of Wesley and those whose souls, like 
his own, burned with Evangelical zeal which gave 
to the world the all-conquering Methodist Church ? 

“The same beneficent results of heroic conten- 
tion for a principle find expression in the most 
vivid and impressive pages of the history of 
nations. 

“Would any one seriously affirm that had the 
New England Colonies calmly submitted to the 
injustice of taxation without representation, 
which was imposed upon them by King George 
and his parliament, the inspiring records of 
American liberties would ever have been written ? 

“No, I am a Presbyterian, and I love my 
Church — but I respect all other churches and with 
John Wesley I would say, 

“In things essential unity, 

In things indifferent liberty, 

In all things charity.” 

“Hear, hear,” exclaimed the men, when Walter 
had concluded his argument. 

They well knew his utter sincerity. He was a 
most devout man, whose sterling integrity had 


146 The World , the Church and the Devil 


been everywhere admitted and approved, a typical 
Presbyterian of the old school, a school from 
which there had been graduated throughout many 
generations innumerable men and women whose 
splendid integrity had adorned the doctrines 
which they and their fathers had professed. 

As W. G. Hale rose to leave, he said, “Well, 
well, Walter, have it your own way if you will. 
It seems to me, however, that you have no serious 
objections to dealing with the Methodists, Con- 
gregationalists, Baptists, and Anglicans six days 
in the week, but I suppose the seventh day is 
the Sabbath of the Lord your God, whose pre- 
eminent representatives on earth must ever be to 
you John Knox and St. Giles.” 

“James Muir and St. Giles,” put in Neil Fer- 
guson. 

“Oh, yes,” said Hale, “the old beadle solemnly 
informed me in speaking of the advent of the 
Reverend James Muir that, ‘Elijah had come!’ ” 

“You’ll have to come up yourself and hear 
him,” said Walter. 


CHAPTER XIII 


SACRAMENT SABBATH IN THE KIRK 

/ T' HE morning of Sacrament Sabbath dawned 
—* bright and balmy over the town of Maple- 
ton, and as the great bell of St. Giles peeled forth 
its mellow music it seemed as though with solemn 
cadences it summoned the people not only to 
church but to God. 

From all quarters of the town men and women 
might have been observed wending their way to 
the Kirk. 

“ I never hear that bell,” remarked Jean St. 
Claire to her brother, “but I am reminded of the 
romantic story of the bells of Bottreaux Tower.” 

“You mean the bells of Tintagel,” answered 
her brother as he plucked a rose from the luxuri- 
ant vine which spread its branches over the iron 
fence that skirted the “Elms” and gave it to his 
sister. 

“No,” replied Jean, “you know that while as 
a matter of fact the towers of the Bottreaux 
Church are silent yet there is a legend frequently 
i47 


148 The World , the Church and the Devil 

repeated by the fishermen of that part of the 
Cornish coast to the effect that whenever the 
storm rises over these waters the sound of bells 
tolling is heard far down in the depths beneath.” 

“Where did they get that idea?” 

“Oh,” replied his sister, “it is told by the old 
fishermen that these bells intended for the Bot- 
treaux Tower were cast in France and were be- 
ing brought over to England on a ship. When 
they sighted the coast a sailor hearing the Tintagel 
bells echo over the water kneeled down upon the 
deck and devoutly thanked God for having 
brought them home safely. 

“This act of the sailor enraged the Captain, 
who was said to be an atheist. Coming on the 
scene, he gave him a brutal kick and ordering him 
up off his knees, told him to thank the Captain 
and not God, for it was the Captain that had 
guided the vessel safely home. 

“Scarcely had these scornful words escaped his 
lips when the vessel struck a rock and went down, 
crew and all, to the bottom of the sea. These 
bells which were to have hung in Bottreaux 
Tower were buried fathoms deep, and the legend 
tells us further that when the west wind blows 
gently across the waters the melody of an old 
hymn is plainly heard. 


Sacrament Sabbath in the Kirk 149 

“come to thy god in time; 

“youth, MANHOOD, OLD AGE PAST, 

“come to thy god at last.” 

Just as Jean concluded this story, she and her 
brother found themselves in the vestibule of St. 
Giles and passing quietly in, they took their ac- 
customed seats in the old family pew. 

The church was crowded, and not a sound 
could be heard as the venerable elders walked 
reverently up and down the aisles, collecting the 
tokens. 

Then Muir, whose face seemed to have been 
transfigured, solemnly lined over the words of 
the Scripture paraphrase which was invariably 
sung in all the Scottish churches before the ele- 
ments were dispensed, and, as his rich voice con- 
cluded this recital with the words : — * 

“With love to man this cup is fraught. 

Let all partake the sacred draught. 

Through latest ages let it pour 
In memory of my dying hour,” 

a deep and reverent emotion of penitence, grati- 
tude and adoration swept over the waiting con- 
gregation. 

At the close of the service, Muir, looking 
earnestly down upon the assembled worshipers, 
said : “The benediction will not be pronounced in 


ISO The World , the Church and the Devil 

the Church this morning, inasmuch as this service 
will now adjourn to the home of Mr. David 
Bruce, where the Sacrament of Our Lord and 
Savior will be administered to his son David 
Bruce, this at his own request. Any members 
of this Church desiring to be present will be made 
welcomed 

Half an hour later David Bruce, in the pres- 
ence of his father and mother, the elders and 
some of the members of St. Giles, received his 
first and last Communion from the hands of the 
Reverend James Muir. 

This simple service of the Presbyterian 
Church, by which this Sacrament had been ad- 
ministered, not in private, but in the presence of 
several members of the Congregation, Muir con- 
cluded with the words, so dear to David Bruce, 

“And now unto Him, who is able to keep you from 
falling and to present you faultless before the presence 
of His glory with exceeding joy, to the only wise God 
our Savior be Glory and Majesty, Dominion and Power, 
both now and forever — Amen.” 

II 

THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW 

That Sunday night, weary and nervous 
with the labors of the day, Muir tossed rest- 


Sacrament Sabbath in the Kirk 151 


lessly upon his bed. Falling into a light sleep 
between one and two o’clock in the morning, he 
was suddenly awakened by the violent ringing 
of the telephone in his study. 

Rushing across the hall and placing the re- 
ceiver to his ear, a voice enquired, “Is that Mr. 
Muir ?” 

“Speaking,” replied Muir. 

“This is Doctor Maclaren’s office. Your pres- 
ence is desired immediately at David Bruce’s.” 

“David must be worse,” said Muir to himself, 
as hurriedly dressing himself, he hastened out 
into the street. 

Arriving at the Bruce residence, he was met 
at the door by old David. 

“Yer here, Mr. Muir,” said the old man, grip- 
ping his hand like a vice. “Go in — the Doctor’s 
in there. He says the end is near” — and so say- 
ing he ushered Muir into David’s bedroom. 

Seeing Muir enter, Doctor Maclaren advanced 
towards the door, his hands covered with blood. 

“David and I have been plugging the cavity 
with gauze,” said the Doctor; “we’ve just got it 
fixed up,” and, turning to David, said, “You’re 
not in pain now, are you David?” 

“No,” answered David, “only weak.” 

“Well — just keep quiet — Muir will apply his 


152 The World , the Church and the Devil 

hand gently to that gauze — like this (touching 
the gauze) to keep it in its place. His side is too 
tender, to-night, to admit of a bandage, Mr. 
Muir. Just hold it gently and keep it in its 
place.” 

“I’ll be going now, David,” said the Doctor 
after a few moments. “Muir will remain with 
you until Dick comes. He left Toronto on the 
eleven o’clock train and is due here at five.” 

“All right, Doctor,” said Bruce. “Thank you 
— Good night.” 

For some time Muir continued to sit at Bruce’s 
bedside, gently pressing his fingers against the 
antiseptic gauze — at length Bruce said to him, 
“There’s a letter in the desk that I wish you to 
deliver — it’s addressed. It’s mighty good of you 
to stay with me; I can never repay you for all 
you have been, and done for me. Do what you 
can when I am gone to comfort Mother, tell her 
that I was ready and willing to answer the call — 
that we will meet again in the morning in the 
land where there is no more pain.” 

“He is able to keep you from falling and to 
present you all before the presence of his glory 
with exceeding joy,” answered Muir. 

Shortly after these words were spoken David 
Bruce became faint with exhaustion. At length 


Sacrament Sabbath in the Kirk 153 


he closed his eyes. Muir thought that he had 
fallen peacefully asleep. But in a few moments 
he heard him whispering, the scenes of the past 
and of the future apparently controlling his 
thoughts, “Messiah to-night!” — “Messiah to- 
night !”— “Great Crowd !” — “Great Crowd !” — 
“I know that my Redeemer liveth” — “Harps” — 
“Harps” — “Full Band” — “God Omnipotent 
Reigneth” — “That inscription on” — “In domo 
Patris mei Habitations” — but before David 
Bruce had finished the sentence his soul had en- 
tered into the Mansions of the Blessed. 


hi 

THE HARP OF DAVID BRUCE 

Two days later the funeral service of David 
Bruce was conducted in St. Giles. Every seat 
was occupied and there were many standing in 
the aisles. The service was marked by simplicity. 
After prayer Muir announced the fifty-third 
paraphrase beginning with the words : 

“Take comfort, Christians, when your friends 
In Jesus fall asleep. 

Their better being never ends; 

Why then dejected weep? 


154 The World , the Church and the Devil 

“Why inconsolable, as these 
To whom no hope is given? 

Death is the messenger of peace 
And calls the soul to Heaven.” 

Then followed the reading of the 121st Psalm 
and part of 14th Chapter of Saint John, and as 
Muir concluded with the story of the Prodigal 
Son, from the 15th Chapter of Saint Luke, there 
was scarcely a dry eye in the church. 

The clear tones of a harp were heard in the 
choir. It was the Harp of David Bruce — the 
Harp he loved so well. The happy thought of 
introducing the Harp had occurred to Vernera 
Pemberton and it was her hands that swept its 
chords as the music of women’s voices filled the 
vast arches of the church, singing: 

“List cherubic host in thousand choirs 

Touch their immortal harps with golden wires, 

With those just spirits that wear victorious palms 

Singing everlastingly devout and holy psalms.” 1 

Then Donald Kennedy’s powerful bass voice 
rolled out the words: 

“And I heard the voice of harpers, harping before the 
throne, 

And they sang as it were a new song, before the throne, 
And no man could learn that song but they that had been 

redeemed.” 1 

1 From “The Holy City,” A. R. Gaul. 


Sacrament Sabbath in the Kirk 155 ’ 

That clay, Vernera had joined the choir of St. 
Giles, and it was a day which she never forgot, 
nor did many others. 


IV 

DICK RIFLER 

Some days after the funeral of David Bruce, 
his aged father received among many other 
letters of condolence the following lines from 
Professor Juan Almanzor of Albuk, New 
Mexico : 

Dear Sir: 

My heart is overflowing with lonely sorrow to-day, 
for I have read in the paper of the death of your noble 
son David, whom I loved as if he was my very own boy. 
I shall never forget him. He was the best friend I ever 
had in America and was always so kind to me. Many 
of the happiest evenings of my life I passed with him in 
his rooms above the office of the General Supply Store. 
His sad death has resulted from the brutal kick he got 
from a notoriously bad man, Dick Rifler, who for years 
with his gang terrorized the town of Albuk and the entire 
country for miles around it. You will be interested to 
learn that, at last, the judgment of God, so long delayed, 
smote this villain. The woman who had been for years 
his special friend, he deserted, and in her jealous rage, 
she swore vengeance against him. One dark night as 
he was making his way on horseback through the moun- 
tains to one of his secret retreats, she dressed hersdi 


156 The World , the Church and the Devil 

in a man’s clothes and mounted her horse. Meeting him 
in a narrow gorge, she threw vitriol on his face. Crazed 
with agony and blinded, he drove the spurs into his 
horse, which rushed madly forward through the darkness 
and hurled itself and rider from the top of a high 
precipice. Some days later his body was found, terribly 
mangled by the fall. His was an awful death, but one 
which his crimes deeply merited. My heart is full of 
sorrow because David is dead. I shall now be very lonely, 
for never any more will letters come from him to me. 
Please accept my deep sympathy and tell his mother that 
her son David was a brave hero. 

Yours with respect, 

Juan Almanzor. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE MYSTERY OF LOVE 

i 

JEAN ST. CLAIRE 

TEAN ST. CLAIRE was not what you would 
call pretty, but she was handsome, of medium 
height, with large honest eyes and with an 
abundance of brown wavy hair in which there 
was a suggestion of auburn, but her chief attrac- 
tion was her charming manner, gracious, gentle, 
with a winsomeness that few could withstand. 
She was a young lady of keen intelligence and 
of high intellectual attainment. Devoted to 
literature, she had also a fine appreciation of the 
exquisite in art. The former had been inherited 
from her father, the latter from her mother. 

Jean was a general favorite among the older 
people, and from the days when she had at- 
tended High School she had also a host of 
youthful admirers. 


i57 


158 The World } the Church and the Devil 


That boy was envied, indeed, who had been 
granted the privilege of gliding around the skat- 
ing rink with Jean’s hand in his, while it was 
affirmed that Ronald Scot had bought a Peter- 
borough canoe for no other reason than that he 
had experienced alluring visions of himself and 
Jean rippling the sleepy moonlit waters of the 
Iroquois. 

Even the Master of English, in the High 
School, had found it on several occasions more 
than convenient to walk home after school by 
the “Elms,” as Jean’s home was called. 

Mrs. MacGregor had once said to her, “Jean, 
Jean, you give a bit of your heart to every one; 
what will you do when the real Prince comes?” 

At this Jean had smiled, and then becoming 
serious again, replied, “But, Mrs. MacGregor, I 
haven’t yet discovered that I have a heart.” 

When in Scotland with the Maclarens, Dr. 
MacLeod had done his best to persuade Jean that 
she had a heart. 

With him it had been love at first sight, and 
the more he had seen of her the more ardent 
his love had grown. 

The fact that he belonged to the medical pro- 
fession was a sure recommendation to Jean’s in- 
terest. Her father, who for many years had been 


139 


The Mystery of Love 

the leading Doctor of Mapleton and the sur- 
rounding country, had always been her hero. In- 
deed, a Doctor had always been her ideal of man- 
hood and everything related to the science of 
medicine had a peculiar fascination for her. Her 
two brothers had devoted themselves to the 
science of iEsculapius and there was little rea- 
son to doubt that had Jean also been a boy she 
too would have entered the same profession. 

At the age when most children were making 
mud pies she was busily engaged compounding 
powders out of ground red brick mixed with 
washing soda and black pepper and, like her 
brothers, was never known to be without a small 
glass bottle in her pocket. 

When she had become older she was not in- 
frequently discovered by her father poring over 
the Medical Quarterly, to which he was a sub- 
scriber, and caught in this act one day by Mrs. 
MacGregor, Jean had replied to a gentle re- 
proof, “Oh, I guess I am like the darky ‘just 
born so.’ ” 

Doctor MacLeod, who was young and hand- 
some, had the appearance of a man who took his 
profession very seriously. Into Jean’s sympa- 
thetic ear he had poured all his ambitious 
dreams; of how he hoped in later years to devote 


160 The World , the Church and the Devil 

part of his time to the work of original research. 
There was so much still unexplored in the wide 
field of medical science. 

As he thus had manifested his splendid en- 
thusiasm, Jean had become more than a little 
interested, and her eyes had burned with a sym- 
pathetic glow. 

Little wonder then that young Doctor Mac- 
Leod should have inferred that some of this in- 
terest was in himself personally. He had in- 
wardly vowed that she was his destiny, and that 
he must surely endeavor, before she sailed away 
home, to give her some intimation of his devo- 
tion. 

While it had occurred to him that it would 
scarcely be good form to make a proposal upon 
so brief an acquaintance, yet he hoped that he 
might at least be able to secure from her some 
mark of her personal interest before she re- 
turned to Canada. 

His hopes, however, had all been defeated, for 
two days before the Congress concluded its ses- 
sions he had been hurriedly summoned to the 
Provinces for an operation. On his way to the 
station he had called at the St. Enoch’s Hotel, 
hoping to see Jean, only to learn that she had 
suddenly departed, and it was not until his return 


The Mystery of Love 161 

that at the closing banquet of the Association he 
had learned from Mrs. Maclaren that Jean had 
gone up to London with Mrs. Webster and 
would not be back, as she intended to join them 
at Liverpool on the day of sailing. 

Upon entering her stateroom, Jean’s eye spied 
a large box, which was filled with magnificent 
roses, together with a spray of white heather, to 
which was attached the card of Angus MacLeod, 
M. D., with the words written across it, “Dinna 
forget auld Scotia.” 

As she pinned this sprig of white heather on 
her gown she said to herself, “Too bad I did not 
meet him again.” 

Up to this time in her life the thought of really 
falling in love had never entered her mind, but 
at that moment a wonderful emotion thrilled 
her soul, as she seemed to realize, for the first 
time, what love might be — that emotion, which 
is as old as the ages and yet ever as new as the 
morning. Not that she consciously loved any 
one, but she seemed to divine, in this spray of 
heather, the mysterious yearning of a human 
heart, and had Doctor MacLeod been present at 
that moment to plead his cause, under the spell of 
this ecstasy, her heart might have consented to his 
appeal. But he was not present, and the steamer 


1 62 The World , the Church and the Devil 

sailed away. It carried her far away, and condi- 
tions entirely new entered into her life before 
they were destined to met again. 

XI 

ANGUS MACLEOD, M.D. 

It was the early autumn, and the maple trees 
that graced the boulevards of Mapleton, touched 
with the first frosts, had assumed all the colors 
of the rainbow. The City with its beauti- 
ful residences and wide lawns was always at- 
tractive, and now it appeared at its best. 

Indeed, it presented an appearance of more 
than ordinary attractiveness to an alert young 
man, with a pronounced Scottish accent, who 
stepped briskly up to the office in the Maple Leaf 
Hotel and signed the name of Angus MacLeod, 
M.D., Glasgow. 

Sounding the bell, which echoed sharply 
throughout the corridors, the clerk said, “Show 
this gentleman up to No. 73.” 

The following morning as Mrs. Maclaren and 
her husband were seated at the table in the break- 
fast room, Bridget entered with the morning 
paper and a bundle of letters, Giving the letters 


The Mystery of Love 163 

to the Doctor, she handed the paper to his wife. 
Glancing down the local news column, she ex- 
claimed with a titter, “Well, I never — I told you 
so.” 

“Why, what is it, Alice?” asked her husband. 

“Listen,” and then she read aloud the follow- 
ing item: 

“Among the distinguished arrivals at the ‘Maple Leaf’ 
last evening was Doctor Angus MacLeod, of Glasgow. 
Dr. MacLeod, in a brief interview, expressed himself as 
delighted with Canada, which, with the keen appreciation 
of the Scotch, he regards as a land of exceptional oppor- 
tunities, especially for those desiring to establish new 
homes. Dr. MacLeod, who is on his way to the Pacific 
Coast, will spend some days in Mapleton and vicinity.” 

“Angus MacLeod,” exclaimed the Doctor. 
“Well, I’m so glad. He’s such a lovely fellow. I 
will call in and see him on my way to the office. 
Can’t we have him in to dinner to-night? You 
better arrange this, Alice. Get Jean and some 
others, you know.” 

“I’ll just call Jean up right away and ask if 
she knows that he is here,” replied Mrs. Mac- 
laren. 

“If she doesn’t she soon will. Angus is not the 
kind to let the grass grow under his feet,” said 
the Doctor, as he left for his office. 

Doctor Maclaren had judged correctly, for 


164 The World , the Church and the Devil 

that afternoon, Doctor Angus MacLeod made his 
way to the “Elms.” 

For some years after Jean St. Claire’s father 
had left Glasgow he had lived in Virginia, and 
subsequently taking up his abode in Mapleton, he 
had built a beautiful home which he had modeled 
after the type of those noble mansions so dear 
to the people of that “Old Dominion.” 

This stately house with its broad verandas 
was surrounded by sweeping lawns, whose velvety 
surface was diversified by flowers and shrubs 
and tall elm trees, which with their slender 
branches cast long shadows across it, and very 
beautiful indeed did it appear to Angus Mac- 
Leod, that afternoon, as he approached the iron 
gate which guarded its entrance. 

As he advanced up the gravel walk which led 
from the gate to the front door, Jean herself 
appeared coming round the corner of the house, 
from the conservatory, carrying a bunch of newly 
plucked violets in her hand. Very charming and 
radiant did she look that afternoon dressed in 
white. 

MacLeod’s heart throbbed with an unusual 
excitement, as, raising his hat, he said, “I’m very 
glad to meet you again, Miss St. Claire — very 
glad, indeed.” 


The Mystery of Love 165 

“Oh, Dr. MacLeod,” exclaimed Jean, cordially 
extending a hand of welcome, “where did you 
ever come from? This is a most unexpected 
pleasure — Grandmother will be so glad to meet 
you — she has so often spoken of you — you know, 
I told her how much you were devoted to Aber- 
feldy — which is the dearest place in all the world 
to her.” 

MacLeod’s feelings were mingled as he re- 
plied, “Yes, that’s a lovely spot, one of the most 
beautiful in the Highlands, so full of romantic 
associations; what was it Burns said about it, 

“Let fortune’s gifts at random flee 
They ne’er shall draw a wish frae me, 
Supremely blessed wi’ love and thee 
In the birks of Aberfeldy.” 

“Father was a great lover of Burns,” replied 
Jean, as together they entered the house. 

Old Mrs. St. Claire grasped MacLeod warmly 
by the hands and bade him a true Highland wel- 
come to the “Elms.” As a girl she had played 
among the birks of Aberfeldy, and one of her 
famous stories, which she used to recite to Jean 
and her sister, when as children she tucked them 
away in bed for the night, was about the never- 
to-be-forgotten time in her own girlhood days, 
when a strange man had come rushing on horse- 


i66 The World the Church and the Devil 


back into Aberfeldy after midnight and awaken- 
ing the people had hurriedly informed them that 
McCheyne was to preach the following day in 
a neighboring glen, and that her father and 
mother at daybreak had started out on foot with 
many others to be present at that service. 

MacLeod, whose own home had been at Aber- 
feldy, greatly rejoiced the old lady’s heart as he 
minutely described these happy scenes of her 
childhood. Nor was Jean’s interest less intense 
as Dr. MacLeod described to her the method by 
which 'Robert Koch had successfully discovered 
the “bacillus of tuberculosis,” and her heart 
thrilled with sympathy when Dr. MacLeod added 
that it had for years been his passion to advance 
medical efficiency, by devoting at least a part of 
his time to the work of original research. 

“There is no nobler work in all the world,” ex- 
claimed Jean. “Father was deeply interested in 
it, and frequently remarked that he could wish 
he was just beginning his medical career instead 
of closing it. He always insisted that the next 
quarter century would startle the world with its 
discoveries in Biology.” 

“I shall have the pleasure of meeting you again 
this evening, at Doctor Maclaren’s,” said Dr. 
MacLeod to Jean, as he reluctantly took leave of 


The Mystery of Love 167 

her that afternoon. 

“Mrs. Maclaren’s dinners are famous,” replied 
Jean, “and you will probably meet some charm- 
ing Canadian girls as well,” and then she added, 
“you know we are all quite proud of Miss 
Canada.” 

“I am not surprised,” replied MacLeod, and 
with his large gray eyes he looked into her face 
and added, “any one who wouldn’t be filled with 
admiration for them would surely be daft.” 

“He’s a lovely man,” remarked old Mrs. St. 
Claire to Jean as she reentered the room, “and 
your father would have been delighted indeed 
to know him. He is so lofty in his purposes and 
he was born in Aberfeldy,” and with a tender 
tone in her voice as gentle memories of the past 
filled her heart, she repeated the word, “Aber- 
feldy,” sighing, “Ah, me!” 

The days of Dr. MacLeod’s sojourn in Maple- 
ton seemed to him to have wings. 

The Maclaren dinner was only the beginning 
of a series of receptions and entertainments, 
which were arranged in his honor. 

The mornings were passed on the Golf Links, 
the afternoons in motoring, and the evenings in 
the delightful homes of Mapleton, chiefly at the 
Maclarens’, the MacGregors’ or the St. Claires’. 


i68 The World , the Church and the Devil 


Muir, who had been present on more than one 
occasion, was most gracious to all. He and Dr. 
MacLeod sat together in Dr. Maclaren’s den one 
night and exchanged reminiscences of Edinburgh 
with rare enjoyment. 

“You remember Professor Charles Snodgrass, 
the great Edinburgh surgeon/’ said MacLeod to 
Muir, on one of these occasions. 

“A great surgeon he was but a wee bit 
pompous. It is told of him that having been 
called out of the City to perform an operation, 
he. placed upon the door of his classroom the 
notice, 'Dr. Professor Snodgrass will not meet 
his classes until Friday afternoon, having been 
summoned to Glen Dochart, to perform a critical 
operation.’ Well — some wag of a student had the 
audacity to inscribe underneath the words, 'No 
wreaths, no flowers.’ ” 

''That was not half as bad as what happened 
to Graham,” said Dr. Maclaren, “who having an- 
nounced to his class one day that he had been 
appointed physician to the Queen, the students 
rose en masse and sang 'God Save the Queen.’ ” 

The Maclarens and St. Claires and Mac- 
Gregors, as well as Muir, greatly enjoyed these 
evenings together, but at the close of a delight- 
ful night, spent at the St. Claires’, on their way 


The Mystery of Love 169 

home, Mrs. Maclaren said to her husband, “What 
was the matter with Muir to-night ?” 

“Why ?” asked the Doctor. 

“Well, he seemed to be so absent-minded; he 
called me Mrs. MacGregor twice and then he 
started away home without his overcoat and had 
to return for it.” 

A few days later the train bore Dr. Angus 
MacLeod away from Mapleton. 

The night before his departure he had spent 
the evening with Jean St. Claire. Dinner being 
over, he had suggested to her that they should 
take a walk in the garden. The moonlight 
streaming through the elm branches, which were 
gently swayed by the evening breeze, covered 
their pathway with fitful lights and shadows. 
Angus MacLeod had left Scotland full of hope 
and happiness, at the prospect of finding Jean and 
winning her love, but for the last day or two 
doubts had crept into his heart. He could not 
understand why, but he had not seemed to make 
any progress. Jean, while exceedingly kind and 
gracious to him, had carefully avoided giving him 
any reason to think that she regarded him with 
other feelings than those of a friend whom she 
admired and respected. 


170 The World , the Church and the Devil 


That day, however, he had resolved that he 
could not endure this agitation and suspense any 
longer, and, as they strolled up and down the 
walk in the garden, he had at last ventured to 
tell her all that was in his heart. 

He confided to her the story of the love that 
had filled his heart at the time of their first 
meeting in Glasgow — of his great disappointment 
in not having seen her again before she had sailed 
home — of how his thoughts had gone with her, 
and of how he had impatiently counted the days, 
until he too could follow her to her far away 
home across the sea — of how upon meeting her 
again his love had increased in tenderness and 
strength. As he concluded this passionate out- 
pouring of his heart, he stopped at a turn in the 
walk, and looked her directly in the face. She 
stood and looked at him in silence. Her lips 
trembled in the moonlight, and it seemed as 
though she could not utter a word. 

He had hoped to see her face illuminated with 
love and happiness, but instead of this her fea- 
tures were drawn and pale. 

He moaned — “J ean, Jean, don’t you love me — 
don’t you love me?” 

At length, she took his hand in hers, and gently 
placing her other hand upon his arm, replied: 


The Mystery of Love 171 

“Angus, this is impossible — this can never be.” 

He was too much of a gentleman to insist upon 
her giving her reason. Late that night, after 
walking far out into the country, he had returned 
to his room in the hotel and packed up his grips, 
murmuring to himself, “She loves some one else 
— happy man, whoever he may be.” 

That night Jean slipped noiselessly back into 
the house and went quickly to her room, but not 
to sleep. Slipping on her dressing gown, she sat 
down by the open window and looking out over 
the moonlit garden, she kept saying to herself, 
“Why? Why? Why?” 

She acknowledged to herself that she had ad- 
mired him as a man, that she had been deeply in- 
terested in his plans as a physician, but she knew 
that she did not love him. She knew also that 
the MacGregors and Maclarens fully expected 
that she would marry him, and then her Grand- 
mother had constantly spoken of him so fondly, 
and she realized that they would all be disap- 
pointed. Then as the remembrance of the in- 
tense look of anguish upon his face came before 
her tears ran down her cheeks, and this night, 
which might have been the happiest of her life, 
had proved the most wretched. As she searched 
everywhere in her heart for a reason, the face 


172 The World , the Church and the Devil 

of Muir seemed to come before her in a vision 
and, as she looked into his eyes, she murmured, 
“Oh, I know, my heart is his!” 

Then, walking up and down her room, her 
heart was torn with conflicting emotions, “I love 
him, I love him, but he has never thought of me; 
he loves his work, it fills his heart, it satisfies 
his life.” And again the why! why! came to her 
lips. 

Then sitting down again beside the open win- 
dow, she said, “So this is love! I thought that 
love was a palace of delights, of dawns and sun-, 
rise and singing birds, of flowers and perfume 
and songs of joy, but love is pain, love is anguish, 
love is death.” Then, as the pale light of a new 
day broke over the eastern sky she fell into a 
troubled sleep. 


hi 

THE REVEREND JAMES MUIR 

Mrs. Maclaren had not spoken without cause 
when she remarked to her husband that Muir 
seemed particularly absent-minded. Indeed, 
could she have seen him, as he sat late into 
the night, staring into his study fire, whose 


The Mystery of Love 


173 


dying embers appeared to reflect his own heart’s 
experience, she would have understood the cause 
of his mental absorption. 

For weeks he had, all unknown to Mrs. Mac- 
Gregor, or indeed to any of the members of 
St. Giles, been passing through an experience 
of unspeakable inward conflict. Nor did he con- 
ceal from himself that this issue concerned the 
supreme passion of his very life. 

He had met Jean St. Claire shortly after his 
arrival in Mapleton, and he had fallen desperately 
in love with her. For long he had endeavored 
to suppress this passion. With his exalted ideals 
of the ministry, he felt almost guilty to concede 
even to himself that his heart should have 
prompted him to entertain like feelings of love 
toward a member of his flock. Not that, in prin- 
ciple, he believed in the celibacy of the clergy, but 
it seemed to him that in going around his Parish 
he ought not to entertain towards any of his 
people sentiments other than spiritual. Thus far, 
he had heroically controlled this emotion even if 
he could not declare to himself that he had been 
able to banish it totally from his thoughts. 

He had inferred, moreover, from a word 
dropped by Mrs. Maclaren, that Jean’s affections 
were probably engaged elsewhere, and with the 


174 The World , the Church and the Devil 

coming of MacLeod to Mapleton there was but 
little doubt left in his mind that Jean’s fate had 
been finally sealed. 

The Sunday succeeding MacLeod’s departure, 
Jean did not appear in her usual pew in the 
Kirk. It was said that she had not been well. 
Early in the week he had called at the St. Claires’ 
expecting to find her radiant with happiness, even 
though indisposed in body, but to his great sur- 
prise he discovered that she looked like one who 
had recently passed through an experience of 
most intense mental suffering. 

She greeted him with a certain shyness and 
reserve, such as he had never witnessed in her 
before. He longed to fathom the cause of her 
apparent trouble, but there was a something in 
the atmosphere that seemed to erect an impossi- 
ble barrier between them. On his way home, 
endeavor as he might to unravel the circum- 
stances, he simply could not fathom this mystery. 
The last time he had seen MacLeod and Jean 
together they had appeared so happy, but now 
MacLeod was gone and his name had not even 
been mentioned either by Jean or by her Grand- 
mother, Mrs. St. Claire. What could have hap- 
pened ? He could not imagine that any trifling 
misunderstanding had precipitated a rupture be- 


i75 


The Mystery of Love 

tween them. He was sure that MacLeod had 
loved Jean. No one who had seen them together 
would have doubted this for a moment, nor did 
he have any reason to conclude that Jean had 
not returned the affection of him whose sudden 
departure had seemed to coincide with Jean’s 
unexpected illness. 

Hour after hour he revolved this problem in 
his mind. “Why did MacLeod leave so sud- 
denly?” — “Why all this change in Jean?” But 
the solution baffled all his attempts, analyze the 
circumstances as he might. Moreover, Mrs. 
MacGregor, who loved Jean so devotedly and 
who had many a time spoken of her to him, was 
now mysteriously silent! Nor did the coming 
days and weeks afford his mind any clue. 
Finally, one day at dinner, Mrs. MacGregor an- 
nounced that Jean St. Claire was going abroad. 

“Ah,” said Muir, “will she be married abroad?” 
and then he bit his lip, for the question had 
slipped out really before he had considered. 

“No,” answered Mrs. MacGregor, “she’s goin’ 
ow’er ta Germany, ta study airt. There’s some 
freens o’ her faither’s ow’er there frae New 
York, an’ she expec’s ta spend some months wi’ 
them, but A’ll miss her sair,” and so saying she 
heaved a deep sigh. “She’s no been hersel o’ late 


176 The World , the Church and the Devil 

an’ A’ canna mak oot what’s tha maitter wi’ her.” 

“Probably it’s MacLeod,” Muir ventured and 
then stopped himself. 

“Na, na, it’s no MacLeod — he was a douce 
chiel, but Jean didna lose her hert ta him.” 

As Mrs. MacGregor uttered these words, 
Muir’s heart gave a bound. Going upstairs to 
his study, he asked himself might there be hope 
for him after all. 

The evening before Jean left Mapleton for 
Germany she and Muir had taken informal din- 
ner at the Maclarens’, and as the Doctor, who had 
been called to a case, had not returned when the 
hour arrived for them to leave, Mrs. Maclaren 
said to Muir, “Mr. Muir, will you kindly see 
Miss St. Claire home to-night?” 

“I shall be delighted, indeed,” replied Muir. 

As they passed under the electric light which 
was suspended from a high post that stood near 
the gate of the “Elms,” Muir remarked that he 
was anticipating spending his vacation in Europe 
the following summer, and that he hoped he 
might have the good fortune to meet her at that 
time in Germany. Saying these words, their eyes 
met for a moment, it was only a moment, but 
in that moment their hearts experienced a mys- 
terious and undefined emotion. 


CHAPTER XV 


THE AULD KIRK O’ ST. GILES 

i 

“ST. GILES” 

TT 7TTH the coming of the Reverend James 
* * Muir, the auld Kirk of St. Giles had entered 
upon a new chapter in its history. The conver- 
sion of David Bruce had stirred the young men 
of the City and not only was the influence of this 
great change in his life felt among the members 
of the Stag Club, which had now become “The 
Mapleton Glee Club,” but also among other men 
who had hitherto not manifested any personal in- 
terest in religion. James Muir, quick to take ad- 
vantage of this new and serious feeling in the 
church and City, had organized at the psychologi- 
cal moment a Bible Association which gathered 
into its membership scores of the young men. 
The Glee Club, moved by a new social conscience, 
earnestly supported his efforts, and at each meet- 
177 


178 The World, the Church and the Devil 

ing of the Bible Association took full charge of 
the music. The Sunday previous to the winter 
Sacrament, after many of the men had con- 
fessed their desire to enter upon the Christian 
life, the Glee Club concluded one of the most 
memorable men’s meetings ever held in St. Giles 
by singing the words of the psalm to the tune 
of St. George’s Edinburgh, in the singing of 
which all the members of the class heartily united. 

“Ye gates lift up your heads on high; 

Ye doors that last for aye 
Be lifted up that so the king 
Of glory enter may.” 

Surely upon that day the King of Glory, in all 
the plenitude of his glorious power, had entered 
through the open doors of many human hearts, 
and the effects of this great spiritual awakening 
among the men of Mapleton were far-reaching. 
The saloons were gradually deserted, and for 
lack of customers many of them were compelled 
to close their doors. Young men who used to 
spend their evenings in the questionable atmos- 
phere of these barrooms were now to be found in 
the Club Rooms of the new Curling Rink, where, 
after a roaring game, topped off with a large cup 
of Walter Scot’s best coffee and an appetizing 
lunch, they returned to their homes, in the best 


The Anld Kirk o' St. Giles 179 


of spirits, ready for a good night’s sleep and with 
faculties unimpaired, to resume their several 
duties on the following day. 

While there still remained some men in this 
City who continued in their cups, yet even these 
began to feel that this form of conviviality was 
no longer regarded as respectable by the best peo- 
ple, so that their numbers gradually diminished 
and, in all essential respects, Mapleton came to 
be regarded as a dry city. 

Not that Muir had ever preached a prohibition 
sermon, but somehow, under the influence of his 
life and preaching, coupled with the peculiar re- 
spect of that influence exerted by the conversion 
of David Bruce, a great moral change had taken 
place in the circles of the men. 

The bell of St. Giles was heard far over the 
homes of the people. But farther than the sounds 
of its chimes, and more impressive by far, was 
the influence exerted by its membership in pro- 
moting good citizenship. 

11 

THE BEADLE OF ST. GILES 

The beadle of St. Giles was well known as a 
“town character.” For upwards of half a cen- 


i8o The World , the Church and the Devil 


tury he had exercised his authority within St. 
Giles over preacher and people alike, and few 
indeed there were who ventured to take liberties 
with Thomas Wishart, as he was called, in those 
matters pertaining more immediately to his office. 

For years previous to Muir’s pastorate the said 
Thomas had been a keen critic of the preceding 
minister, who had mortally offended him upon 
the first day of his ministry by manifesting some 
lack of deference. 

The elders were accustomed to tell the initiated 
of how, after this unfortunate episode, Thomas, 
drawing himself up to the full height of his dig- 
nity, had with grave solemnity declared to Muir’s 
predecessor, “Mr. Campbell- — I was in charge of 
this pulpit for years before you ever set foot in 
it and I shall be in charge of this pulpit long after 
you have gone from it.” Sure enough, this bon 
mot of the said Thomas had proved correct. 
However, Muir happened to be a minister whose 
doctrine and methods had both been favorably re- 
ceived by Thomas from the first, and shortly after 
Muir’s induction, Thomas was reported to have 
replied to some one who inquired of him as to 
his opinion of the new minister, in the brief but 
sententious words, “Elijah’s come,” and after 
some months had elapsed in which a great awak- 


The Auld Kirk o > St. Giles 181 


ening had taken place in St. Giles this oracle took 
the opportunity to remark again to the same 

party, “Mr. , I told you that Elijah had 

come.” 


hi 

HECTOR MACFARLANE 

It was the custom in St. Giles for all those who 
desired admission to the full membership of the 
Kirk to appear in person before the Session and 
there to give evidence to the elders that they were 
fit and proper persons to be received into the mem- 
bership of the Kirk. 

Needless to say, some candidates were rejected. 
The elders were seriously disposed men, who mag- 
nified their office, and upon such occasions they 
were accustomed to put such questions to the 
candidates as would reveal to the Court as well 
as to the candidates themselves their true spir- 
itual condition. 

On one such occasion an incident occurred that 
Muir was never likely afterwards to forget. 

Hector MacFarlane, an old Highlander, who 
lived in the Highland Settlement some six miles 
out of Mapleton, came to the decision in his own 


182 The World , the Church and the Devil 

mind that having passed the three score and ten 
mark, it was high time that he should take this 
step. His life had been passed in that rural dis- 
trict, in which he had been regarded as a kind 
of “Witch Doctor.” He was certainly a strange 
character. He had the reputation of having, 
upon several occasions, inserted quicksilver into 
the cows’ horns, as a sure means of preventing 
the milk going sour. Among the elders of St. 
Giles he was not regarded as a religious man. 
However, few there were among them who cared 
to take him to task, for he bore the reputation of 
being mighty in debate. Dressed in a new suit 
of black broadcloth, he presented himself before 
the Session and stated that, being now up in 
years, he desired to be received into the member- 
ship of the Kirk. 

Muir listened to his statement and then turning 
to the elders, said, “Gentlemen, you have heard 
Mr. MacFarlane’s statement and request. It is 
your privilege now to satisfy yourselves as to 
his fitness to be received by this Court into the 
membership of St. Giles. Perhaps you would 
like to ask Mr. MacFarlane some questions.” 
After a silence of several minutes one of the eld- 
ers finally said, “Yes, I would like to ask Mr. 
MacFarlane a question,” and then continued, 


The Auld Kirk o' St. Giles 183 

“Hector — I should say, Mr. MacFarlane — what 
are your views on the subject of prayer?” 

Old Hector cleared his throat and then replied 
something after the following manner: 

“Meenister and elders o’ tha Cbort — A’ nae na 
mony views o’ tha subjec’ o’ prayer, but A’ll jist 
tell ye hoo it iss wi’ me : When A’ gaes ta ma bed, 
if A’m say in’ tha prayers, A’ jist kneels doon and 
says, ‘Noo A’ lay me/ an’ tha rest o’ it — an’ then 
if A’m no ow’er calt, A’ says, ‘Oor Faither,’ and 
the rest o’ it, an’ then A’ whupps inta ma bed an’ 
A’m aye gled when it’s a’ ow’er. Noo, Maister 
Moderator, A’m jist thinkin’ that ma views o’ tha 
subjec’ o’ prayer may no be maist satisfaictory ta 
tha Coort, but A’m wantin’ ta jine tha Kirk an’ 
A’m wullin’ ta gie evidences o’ ma abeelities, an’ 
if tha meenister here wull jist name ony subjec’ 
at his pleasure, A’ wull undertake ta argue ony 
twa o’ tha elders.” 

With great difficulty, Muir maintained the dig- 
nity of the Chair, while one of the elders soberly 
informed Hector that he had entirely misunder- 
stood what was required of those who could be 
received into the membership of the Kirk ; that it 
was not his argumentative abilities which were 
under examination, but his spiritual experience. 

As old Hector left the session room, apparently 


184 The World , the Church and the Devil 

rather crestfallen, Muir shook him warmly by the 
hand and leading him to the door, confided, “that 
St. Paul, who had written at least one-third of 
the New Testament, was a man of outstanding 
argumentative ability, and that God had seen fit 
to bring about his conversion, so that the church 
might for all times to come enjoy the benefits of 
his strong arguments in defense of the faith once 
delivered to the saints, and then he asked Hector 
to go back to the Settlement and announce that 
there would be a weekly service conducted by the 
Minister of St. Giles, each Thursday night, in 
the School House.” So it came to pass that in 
due time old Hector MacFarlane, having been 
instructed in the Word, was able to give to the 
elders satisfactory evidence of the faith that was 
in him. To his dying day, however, Hector was 
accustomed to tell his neighbors that Maister 
Muir was the Godliest Christian he had ever 
been privileged to know, for he — was — so — 
strong — in — argument. 


IV 

THE SERVICE OF PRAISE 

The Law of the Presbyterian Church declares 
that, — 


The Auld Kirk o' St. Giles 185 


“The service of praise is under the direction of 
the session and subject to its control.” 

This authority was jealously guarded by the 
elders of St. Giles, who insisted that the choir and 
organ should not be permitted to monopolize the 
praise of the sanctuary, and so it happened that 
St. Giles was noted for its congregational sing- 
ing. 

When the psalm had been announced, it seemed 
as though every voice in the vast assembly of 
worshipers was vocal in the praise of the Most 
High. 

Not long after Vernera Pemberton had joined 
the choir of St. Giles, a petition, bearing the sig- 
natures of some interested parties, was addressed 
to the session, praying that the number of con- 
gregational singings at each service should be 
reduced from four to three, and that in the place* 
of this one praise selection, the choir should be 
requested to provide a solo. This petition went 
on to say that the church was fortunate in now 
having in its choir Miss Vernera Pemberton, 
whose musical culture was well known to be of 
a high order, and that the time seemed ripe to 
introduce into the service of praise this new and 
attractive feature. 

The motion made by one of the younger elders, 


1 86 The World , the Church and the Devil 

that this petition be granted, did not, however, 
prevail. 

James Burgess was upon his feet at once, with 
blood in his eye. 

He argued that God could not be worshiped 
vicariously, and that there was nothing, to his 
way of thinking, more incongruous than for a 
congregation to pretend they were worshiping 
God when they were listening to a choir perform- 
ing. That while such performances might help 
the oil to run down Aaron’s beard, yet grease 
was not grace and that you cannot make people 
Christians by pumping wind into them. 

He related how, on his recent trip to an 
American metropolis, he had attended one of 
the fashionable churches, which was famed for 
the excellence of its choir. 

He had found the pews more than half empty, 
and when the hymn was given out, scarcely a 
voice was heard in the pews. The choir of that 
church was paid to sing, and the congregation 
was busy listening to see whether they were get- 
ting the worth of their money or not, and tHen, 
with a twinkle in his eye, he told the story of how 
one day an old darky, who had entered the door 
of that church and seated himself down in a back 
pew, being thrilled with the words of the hymn, 


The Auld Kirk o’ St. Giles 187 

had ventured to uplift his voice in the praise of 
God. For this he was promptly reproved by an 
usher, who had told him, “to keep quiet or get 
out.” 

“But, I’se got religion,” exclaimed the darky, 
“I must praise de Lor’.” 

“You keep quiet,” replied the usher, “d’ye un- 
derstand ?” 

“I’se got religion — I’se got religion,” pleaded 
the darky. 

“Oh, you have, eh?” said the usher. “Then 
you get out of here — this is no place for you to 
get religion.” 

After a moment’s pause, during which the dig- 
nified elders had knowingly smiled at the point of 
Burgess’ story, he added, “Moderator and Breth- 
ren, in all seriousness, there is something in a 
crowd singing that grips the very chords of the 
soul. Especially when the tune is associated with 
sacred memories. The longer I live, the more am 
I convinced of the value of hearty congregational 
singing, and it will be a happy day for all the 
churches when they regain the voice of the con- 
gregation. 

“The best music is none too good for the 
worship of the Most High, but better the sin- 
cerity and simplicity of true devotion, rendered 


188 The World, the Church and the Devil 


with a cracked voice, than the most elegant mel- 
ody that is a’ soun\” 

Right or wrong, the words of James Burgess 
convinced the elders and they unanimously 
agreed that the choir, with the able assistance of 
Miss Vernera Pemberton, should diligently en- 
deavor to cultivate the musical talents of the 
whole congregation, to the end that the praise of 
God should resound more and more within the 
sanctuary. 


CHAPTER XVI 


LOVE IS VICTORY 


“Oh, why was the summer so sweet? 

’Twas made of dawns and of calm noontides 
And Sunsets where colors reside, 

The beautiful peace of the deep purple night 
And the glorious joy of Sunlight; 

The Friendship of Stars, of wind and of trees, 
Good comrades indeed were these, 

The sound on the pane of the sweet gentle rain 
That comes like an old refrain, 

The soft night breeze that sang in the trees 
And told of the murmuring sea; 

The Love in your eyes, that time did defy, 

’Twas that made a summer for me .” 1 



HE spiritual awakening that had shaken the 


A auld Kirk of St. Giles, during the first year 
of Muir’s ministry, had proved to be of enduring 
influence. 

Increasingly St. Giles had continued to exert 
a steady power for good upon the City of Maple- 
ton. 

1 From “My Soldier Boy and Other Poems,” by Mrs. 
John Archibald Morison. The Gorham Press, Boston. 

189 


I90 The World , the Church and the Devil 

It had also broadened the horizon of its prac- 
tical Christian activities and was now supporting 
a missionary in India. Formerly the people of 
St. Giles had regarded missionary work as a per- 
missible sentiment; now it was recognized by 
them as the highest type of Statesmanship ; in- 
deed, in missionary zeal and liberality, St. Giles 
was acknowledged as the premier church, not only 
of the Presbytery of Safford, but also throughout 
the entire Synod. 

As we have already seen, Jean St. Claire had 
gone abroad to Germany. Her absence from 
Mapleton had created a blank, not only in the 
large circle of young people among whom she 
was exceedingly popular, but it had also proved a 
source of keen regret to two people, who, in dif- 
ferent ways, were entirely devoted to her. These 
were Mrs. John MacGregor and the Reverend 
James Muir. 

The latter had fallen desperately in love with 
her and, had his high sense of devotion to his 
calling not imposed upon him a severe self-repres- 
sion, he would doubtless, like many another man 
in a similar state of mind, have made avowal 
of his love. As it was, having understood from 
Mrs. Maclaren that Jean’s affections had been 
engaged elsewhere, he had sternly compelled him- 


Love is Victory 191 

self to all the agony of silence. Nor had his in- 
tuitions ever revealed to him that Mrs. Maclaren’s 
judgment in this respect might possibly have been 
unjustified until that moment when his eyes had 
looked into Jean’s, on the last night of their meet- 
ing as he bade her good-by, and then the habit 
of self-repression, which had been so assiduously 
cultivated, would not permit him to tell her of 
what was uppermost in his heart. 

The summer time came again and with it his 
annual vacation. He resolved to follow her to 
Germany. 

Never did the Saxon Capital, with its countless 
towers and minarets, to a traveler from foreign 
lands, appear more alluring than it did to Muir 
as he drove along Prager Strasse from Bahnhof 
to the Europaischer Hof. 

That night, although weary with the long and 
tedious journey by rail from Paris, for hours 
sleep refused to close his eyes. At last he was 
actually in the same city which contained, among 
its many thousands, that one and only one who 
was more than all the world besides to him. 

He reviewed in his mind the circumstances of 
their last meeting and tried to convince himself 
that the momentary look which he had caught in 
her eye had silently suggested her love for him. 


192 The World , the Church and the Devil 

At any rate, upon the morrow he should know. 

The morrow came, and in the forenoon he 
sought her at her pension on Berg Strasse, only 
to discover that she had gone, as was her habit, 
to the studio. Thither he made his way, and there 
he found her in the midst of her work, with a pro- 
fusion of exquisite specimens of the Ceramic Art 
which her deft fingers had adorned. 

She greeted him most cordially, and inquired 
for all her Mapleton friends, more especially for 
her mother’s friend, Mrs. MacGregor. 

This call could not, under the circumstances, 
be prolonged, but before he took his leave she had 
consented to accompany him that night to the 
Royal Opera. 

As he walked back to the Hotel his heart oscil- 
lated between hope and despair. He asked him- 
self had he been mistaken after all, was it pos- 
sible that Jean St. Claire might love him? He 
did not know, for even although she must have 
known that he had journeyed all the way from 
Mapleton to Dresden for the one and only pur- 
pose of seeing her, yet she had failed to let one 
token of encouragement drop either in her words 
or look. 

The evening came at last and with it the opera, 
which happened that night to be “Lohengrin.” 


Love is Victory 


193 


During the interval between the second and 
third acts, Muir and Jean promenaded in the 
foyer, and just before they returned to their seats 
in the auditorium he suddenly whispered to her 
that, like “Lohengrin,” he, too, had discovered 
his Elsa, and when, in the springtime, the swans 
should again appear upon the waters of the Iro- 
quois, he hoped to claim her as his bride. 

Saying these words, he quickly led the way to 
their seats. 

Then followed the third act, in which Elsa ap- 
peared in all the restless agony born of her desire 
to discover the name of her lover. 

Muir observed that Jean was strangely agitated, 
nor, as they walked back to her pension, did the 
cool night air avail to restore her composure. 

Muir spoke of the opera and suddenly reverted 
to the subject of his own anticipated marriage. 

“You have not told me the lady’s name, nor 
when you became engaged,” said Jean, as they 
entered the grounds surrounding the elegant pen- 
sion. 

“Oh,” replied Muir, “that is easily done; she 
is of medium height, with wavy brown hair and 
lovely eyes, and her price is above rubies, but, as 
I told you, I hope to claim her as my bride when 
the swans return in the spring. Yes, I hope — I 


194 The World, the Church and the Devil 

hope — but — then — I do not really know — for — I 
am not yet engaged — I have had no opportunity 
as yet of telling her, but I shall tell her very soon 
— and if she should refuse the offering of my 
heart — — !” And then he uttered an involuntary 
sigh. 

“What is her name?” exclaimed Jean, adding, 
“but this I should not ask.” 

“Oh, yes, indeed, it is your privilege,” answered 
Muir. “Her name — is — Jean St. Claire!” And 
then this strong man broke passionately forth in 
all the agony of his love. 

“Jean, Jean, it is yourself I love, and have 
loved for long. I’ve hoped against hope and to- 
day I thought that I might have seen in your 
face, in your eyes, the lovelight which I had come 
so far to find. But I did not see it. Oh, Jean, 
you must love me, like a sailor at sea without a 
compass, like a traveler lost on the desert and 
dying of thirst have I been all the hours of this 
day and for many days. Once I had thought to 
satisfy my heart with the rewards of my calling, 
and in this indeed I succeeded until I saw you. 
And then, at the first, I vowed that I would crush 
down my love for you, but my love would not 
surrender; then I thought with deepest anguish 
that my love for you was hopeless because you 


Love is Victory 


195 


loved another, and a great dark loneliness settled 
down upon my heart ; but the night we said good- 
by, our eyes met, my soul went out to yours, 
my whole being was inflamed and I went home 
intoxicated with hope, saying over and over to 
myself, ‘Yes, she will love me; she must love me. 
I’ll win her yet; I’ll conquer her heart; I’ll call 
her mine.’ From that very hour, you, my dear- 
est one, have never been absent from my thoughts, 
waking or sleeping I have thought and dreamed 
of you and loved you with all the devotion of my 
heart. This is why to-night, half insane, I told 
you that I hoped to be married in the spring-time 
when the swans returned, and I have hoped it, 
yes, so long and earnestly. Perhaps to-night I 
should not have spoken, but my heart refused to 
be silent ; I could not wait, I had to speak, I had 
to tell you. Answer me, tell me, if it is possible 
that you can ever return my love.” 

Drawing nearer to him, she responded, “I have 
always loved you,” and the face she raised to his 
was transfigured with a brightness such as no 
artist was ever able to describe. 

He clasped her in his arms and their lips met in 
a tender embrace. 

Then followed the happiest days of their lives. 


196 The World, the Church and the Devil 

Their hearts were in the rapture of a supreme 
joy. 

Together they visited the Picture Gallery with 
its marvelous canvases of Correggio, Titian, Tin- 
toretto, Murillo, Rubens, Rembrandt, and many 
others. 

Here, also, they found the most celebrated of 
all Raphael's Madonnas, in which the Holy Vir- 
gin appears descending from on high, bearing the 
Christ Child, her whole attitude being not that 
of a sorrowing mother, but of a triumphant 
queen, holding in her arms Him who shall con- 
quer the world, while on either side of the canvas 
appear the forms of Saint Sixtus and Saint Cath- 
erine, kneeling in adoration. 

As together they gazed, for long, in silence 
upon the impressive lines of this most marvelous 
painting, it seemed as though the face of the 
Virgin Mother shone with a Heavenly light, be- 
stowing upon their love her Benediction, and in 
the consciousness of her wide sovereignty over 
the hearts of human kind proclaiming that “Love 
is life; Love is victory; Love is Heaven." 

Together they made happy excursions to Saxon 
Switzerland in the vicinity of Koenigstein and 
Lillienstein. They traversed together fairy 


Love is Victory 


197 


paths that wound their way through vast pine 
forests, whose thick dark foliage, pierced by occa- 
sional shafts of sunlight, seemed to guide their 
feet, as with celestial torches, symbolizing that 
throughout all the future days of their journey- 
ings together, whether amid scenes of light or 
shadow, the flaming lamp of love would never 
fail. 

Nor was this new-found happiness confined to 
their hearts alone — great rejoicings were heard in 
St. Giles, when Mrs. St. Claire announced the 
engagement of her granddaughter to the Rev- 
erend James Muir. 

A beautiful brown stone house on Phillips 
Square was purchased by the Congregation for 
a Manse, and the following spring, after the nup- 
tials of Muir and Jean had been celebrated in 
the Kirk of St. Giles, Jean St. Claire became the 
mistress of the Manse. 

The wedding presents from the members of 
St. Giles were many and beautiful, all of them 
manifesting the love and esteem in which the min- 
ister and his wife were held by the congregation. 

Among all these tokens of good will and affec- 
tion, none was more highly prized by Muir and 
Jean than a young thoroughbred Newfoundland 
dog, which was presented to them by Hector Mac- 


198 The World , the Church and the Devil 

Farlane of the Highland Settlement, who in giv- 
ing it to Muir had said, “She’ll be a goot daug, 
Maister Muir. She’s got the right strain in him. 
She’ll be as wise as a serpent and as brave as a 
she-lion. I brocht her mother ma’sel frae Scot- 
land. She’ll belong to her sister, Duncan, who’ll 
carry on her pisness for mony years in New- 
foundland. She’ll be the same breed as was pre- 
sented to the King of England for her boys. 
You’ll keep her and you’ll love her and you’ll 
nefer need a truer friend to defend you so long 
as she’ll not be dead. And, mind you, it’s auld 
Hector MacFarlane, of the Highland Settlement, 
what’s saying these words.” 









































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